Little houses, short and sweet
On the friendly fairwinds street
White pear trees and pebble puddles
Rusty cars in traffic huddled
They always seemed to know
Just where they wanted to go
And they took it nice and slow
And in their seats we watched the show
I guess it's all just because I was young
But I felt the place had the good grace of the sun
Like it shined more often, and brighter too
And the sky was a prettier hue of blue
And the wheels on the wagon never seemed to skid
I guess it's just because I was a kid
YOU ARE READING
Escapril 2020
PoetryA poetry collection based on prompts from @letsescapril on Instagram
