Sitting on your knee
a baby was all I could be
surrounded by red, blue, green
everything was perfect, it seemed
From infant
to independent
always there for me
that red, blue, green
Too young to remember
I'll never forget
all the times we shared
pretending at picnics
But you grew your wings
and you had to leave
and as for why
it's still a mystery to me.
YOU ARE READING
LETTERS I'LL NEVER WRITE
Poetrysome things I had wished I told people, some things I should never tell anyone. All writings belong to me, myself, & i.
