Mar 2020
A bushel of sweet berries
Wait upon their willowed branch
For the ghosts to come for them
The rains will come and drench,
The sun will march and shine,
But the sky will never change it’s hue.
Sweet berries wait for two ghosts
They’re no different than you.
Wait upon their willowed branch
For the ghosts to come for them
The rains will come and drench,
The sun will march and shine,
But the sky will never change it’s hue.
Sweet berries wait for two ghosts
They’re no different than you.
I forgot what I originally wrote this poem as. I passed out in the middle of writing it.
