summer eighteen,
a field full of daisies,
the sun burning my skin,
we created memories.
summer nineteen,
bright eyes,
sweet smile,
you're such a dream to me.
summer twenty,
rain falling, tears welling,
storm raging, hearts breaking,
you left me in pity.
since then,
to me,
in summer,
sadness blooms as flowers.
YOU ARE READING
four seasons
Poetryfor you, the sun shines. the flowers grow. the night comes. everything just glows. all rights reserved 2020 ©artoxicated
