The sound of water swimming down a stream, wind whispering in my ears, the lovely scent of rosebuds yet none are near.
( I haven't written poetry since I was in sixth grade, so I do apologise if this turns out terrible. )
The sound of water swimming down a stream, wind whispering in my ears, the lovely scent of rosebuds yet none are near.
( I haven't written poetry since I was in sixth grade, so I do apologise if this turns out terrible. )
Poems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased revi...