I'm just a little boy
Way too much is serious
What is your name?
I am curious
So many words bottld in me
Let me speak what will please you
Just to grant you her wish
Chase you down the street
Tackle you onto the lawn
Feed you sweet kisses till all you
Wanting is gone.
Flora and fauna
Sip sweet tea from a pond
Your soul is no hurricane
For the most part
The storm is gone
YOU ARE READING
Winter Through Windows
PoetryToday, dreams are mocked and strangled habitually. Sarcasm is seldom labeled the accent of the devil and her insatiable brethren, but, my dear, that is what that is if you don't quite understand him or hymn. Even parents seldom encourage their kids...
