There’s an emptiness today
One covered with fall leaves and broken trees
Window half open
Inviting small pellets of breeze to drift into the room
Chapstick broken in the bottom drawer of the desk
Those days, back when I was a kid
Crawling around in the playground outside
Father putting white blocks of sunscreen
On the forehead of my face
Didn’t even know what existed yet
This is nostalgia, isn’t it?
Or maybe it’s a what if.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
There’s an emptiness today
One covered with fall leaves and broken trees
Window half open
Inviting small pellets of breeze to drift into the room
Chapstick broken in the bottom drawer of the desk
Those days, back when I was a kid
Crawling around in the playground outside
Father putting white blocks of sunscreen
On the forehead of my face
Didn’t even know what existed yet
This is nostalgia, isn’t it?
Or maybe it’s a what if.