Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2018
When the heat simmers
and the grass grows golden
When the dust clouds rise
and the birds soar away
When the summer winds blow
and the trees began to wilt
When the train chugs along
on its sad wistful track,
I'll come home.
Written by
doodle poodle
157
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems