Branches touch the blue sky
Touch the sunset with my finger
The roof: the place where I cry
And my ideas and dreams linger
Skin hearing the balmy breeze
Ears see music from bird chimes
See the sunshine through the trees
Sunshine that dances sometimes
From the roof looking over the wall
Watching the sky and the neighbors
Climbing down the tree when parents call
That you shouldn't spy on neighbors
YOU ARE READING
AN ALBUM WILL REMEMBER
Poetry[ poetry/short stories/collection ] ❝ you made the truth into what I lied, and I lied that I was beautiful ❞ . . . a collection of rainbows, theories, and dreams, of words faded around the edges with meanings that nothing could ever fade. a...
