Did i ever tell you, about the boy with bigger hopes?
With a bright past, a dull present, and a Forever hopeful return to the kindling ember His past still bears?
With memories of fields. Luscious, slick,
Irish-green summer grass; under a diagonal orange flare of happiness only sweet summer would gift.
"Ahh, those were the days!" he would joke, Trying to conceal his heartbreak at how far He'd fallen in the chart of happiness.
He forever lies now,
Upon his worn-out mattress;
With a crowded head of thoughts and memories,
Looking out the window-
With a forever-dream of those joyful summers,
Under an Irish heaven.