Jan 2011
She faces the sun,
Turns her face straight to its beams,
Letting it wash over her disposition,
Bathing her in naivety,
And she shields her eyes,
With her rose-colored glasses.
Turns her face straight to its beams,
Letting it wash over her disposition,
Bathing her in naivety,
And she shields her eyes,
With her rose-colored glasses.
