She does not write any poems,
She does not take any pills,
And only brews her green tea when the kettle gets chilled,
She would do anything to stay in my mind,
She dreams of the summer,
When it’s been long time gone,
And there is something about her, that is making me yawn,
She does not like any friends that I love so much,
And starts to dig in my pockets once my eyelids would touch,
Her favorite thing is to dream and talk about it out loud,
I am a shallow grey ocean that feeds on life and demands,
But for an unexplained reason she would not let go of my hand...