Leaning on the grass
like the late September breeze,
she traces as a path,
the pattern pressed into my knees
to where the lines are thickest,
finds my fondest memories,
and softly drops her kisses
like the falling autumn leaves.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
Leaning on the grass
like the late September breeze,
she traces as a path,
the pattern pressed into my knees
to where the lines are thickest,
finds my fondest memories,
and softly drops her kisses
like the falling autumn leaves.
