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Ayla Grey
Poems
Sep 2024
My Dreams Smell Like Cut Grass
Singing by the wayside
Bellowing in the trees
Lovely like a turtle dove
Lives my hopes and dreams
Far away in the mountains
Buried in a box
My hopes and dreams lie dormant
Gated by the locks
Singing hallelujah
To the once gorgeous mural
Can't distinguish paintings
From extreme peril
But the hopes are beautiful like oceans
And they look like stained glass
And although they might be oblivious
They smell like cut grass
For those that don't know: the loved summer smell of cut grass is actually a distress signal from the plant. It's quite literally a call for help.
#grass
#hopes
#dreams
#failure
#lost
Written by
Ayla Grey
17/F/Seattle
(17/F/Seattle)
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