I grieve the day I breathe my last and
can no longer see the way the
spring sun shines through trees and
dances through the grass in
so many shades of green.
Or how it brings out the red in your hair you
always swore was there as the
wind tousles it across your face,
getting caught in the corner of the
smirk you can’t hide.
I’ll miss you being mine.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 7:13 PM UTC
I grieve the day I breathe my last and
can no longer see the way the
spring sun shines through trees and
dances through the grass in
so many shades of green.
Or how it brings out the red in your hair you
always swore was there as the
wind tousles it across your face,
getting caught in the corner of the
smirk you can’t hide.
I’ll miss you being mine.
