Alone he sits,
in the field,
waiting for the birds to migrate,
from an eternal winter,
he hears their song no longer,
except when she smiles,
only when she's around,
does the sun fulfill its duties,
warms him,
for he is cold from the rain.
Apr 7, 2021
Apr 7, 2021 at 6:32 PM UTC
Alone he sits,
in the field,
waiting for the birds to migrate,
from an eternal winter,
he hears their song no longer,
except when she smiles,
only when she's around,
does the sun fulfill its duties,
warms him,
for he is cold from the rain.
