The sun on my face
You say it's like the beach
The water hits our back.
You cover me
with a paint covered sweatshirt,
and you care that I'm cold.
I nap in your arms.
I told you that you were my little boy
And I would take care of you,
Maybe for the last time.
But that was the plan,
We shook on it; the bed.
Unusual, that light from your window
Offered more cloak than the night.
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
The sun on my face
You say it's like the beach
The water hits our back.
You cover me
with a paint covered sweatshirt,
and you care that I'm cold.
I nap in your arms.
I told you that you were my little boy
And I would take care of you,
Maybe for the last time.
But that was the plan,
We shook on it; the bed.
Unusual, that light from your window
Offered more cloak than the night.
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