Wednesday


Winter is Usually Cold.

Your eyes, smooth as a button, where I live sitting free above your brain
Hair hanging free, with the sunshine on my mind.

I met a little bird today where the rain stops before the men cry
And the coffee tastes like paradise with limes.

The train took me far away, to a place where the animals run free
And the grass is a tint of Winter Green.

No comments:

Post a Comment