the wind is high
the tides are low
and i'd go anywhere you'd go.
i can't describe
my feeble thought
i can't believe you almost bought.
my car is empty
of all its gas
so i took a moment to sit in the grass.
green, green grass.
the wind is high
the tides are low
you'd go anywhere i go.
you followed me out of the park
into the forest filled with with dark.
the sky is grey
the clouds are blowing
aren't we lucky it isn't snowing?
the wind is low
the tides are high
you stopped going anywhere i go.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrypoetry is when an emotion has found its thought, and the thought has found words -robert frost. all poems are mine unless stated otherwise. just thought i'd give someone a taste of my mind. #4 in ode
