The trees are green again.
The leaves gently sway,
Pointing in no particular direction.
Days are tinted in that yellow
That only shows up during summertime,
And nights are spent
With the window open, feeling the breeze,
Humming softly in arbitrary tunes.
I'm still alone,
Missin' no one in particular,
'Cause there wasn't anyone to miss in the first place.
Sitting here, feeling,
Dreaming,
Waiting.
And slowly, quietly,
I slip into a light blanket of slumber.
Away into the warm night,
With the breeze blowing softly
On my face,
And the calmly swaying curtains
Casting moving shadows
On my eyelids.
YOU ARE READING
A Touch of Wonder
PoetryA book of poetry filled with thoughts, experiences, and emotions. "As I walk down the slippery street, My face streaming with tears, The sadness can barely be sustained. But you suddenly kiss away my fears, My dear umbrella in the rain."
