Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2018
No one hugs me as warmly as that powder did. He never said no, or that he was too busy, or didnt feel like being touched. He asked for nothing in return.
Those lines were my yellow brick road
Leading to the fantasy of Oz,
A city where I could sing and sparkle
And take long journeys with a natural courage that I never had to steal from someone else.
It was mine, and it was all color.
BlueBird
Written by
BlueBird  35/Alberta.
(35/Alberta.)   
111
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems