Riding to the post office
On my red Schwinn
My shoes, they have holes
Because they are my favorite
And I won't stop wearing them
Until I get new ones
I'm in weather heaven
And I park my bike &
Hook it up to the bar
That I keep getting yelled at
For hooking it up to
Walk in, wait in line
And there is a baby boy
In a lady's arms, with
Bright blue eyes and
Fiery red hair, as he looks at me
With wide wide eyes
He soaks in everything that I am
His baby brain over sensitive
Firing neurons that make
Him **** in every detail
Overwhelming his little head
And he grins a tiny,
Toothless smile at me
I grin & look away
I wish I could have kids...
I buy my stamps & send a package
To my uncle
Then I go unhook my bike
Ride this weather like
A bird & try not to think
About that fiery red haired child
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
Riding to the post office
On my red Schwinn
My shoes, they have holes
Because they are my favorite
And I won't stop wearing them
Until I get new ones
I'm in weather heaven
And I park my bike &
Hook it up to the bar
That I keep getting yelled at
For hooking it up to
Walk in, wait in line
And there is a baby boy
In a lady's arms, with
Bright blue eyes and
Fiery red hair, as he looks at me
With wide wide eyes
He soaks in everything that I am
His baby brain over sensitive
Firing neurons that make
Him **** in every detail
Overwhelming his little head
And he grins a tiny,
Toothless smile at me
I grin & look away
I wish I could have kids...
I buy my stamps & send a package
To my uncle
Then I go unhook my bike
Ride this weather like
A bird & try not to think
About that fiery red haired child
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
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