My legs itch
The wind blows
It is sweet
With the smell of palm tree
And grass.
A bird sings in a nearby tree
But I know its song
Is not for me;
I will use these words
To paint a pleasant picture,
One with golden rays of sunlight
Cast upon rippling water,
In the most tranquil yard.
The sun fades,
The shade grows,
How I wish the fist would stay,
And the second would go;
Pulled back by the wind,
Stroked cut
Here I am---
At peace
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
My legs itch
The wind blows
It is sweet
With the smell of palm tree
And grass.
A bird sings in a nearby tree
But I know its song
Is not for me;
I will use these words
To paint a pleasant picture,
One with golden rays of sunlight
Cast upon rippling water,
In the most tranquil yard.
The sun fades,
The shade grows,
How I wish the fist would stay,
And the second would go;
Pulled back by the wind,
Stroked cut
Here I am---
At peace
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