"athletics" poems
The doctor tells me my results.
Three injuries in one.
I would need surgery.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I could no longer play the sports I loved.
Was this the end?
My ACL decided athletics had taken it's toll,
and my menisci was right along with it.
The bruised bone was a bonus though.
Was this the end?
Could I emotionally handle
the recovery?
The recovery of heartbreak from simple test results
The recovery from physical damage
The recovery of surgery that joined my main muscles back together again
The recovery of a new muscle, foreign to me
Will I ever be fully recovered?
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
there lives a little white boy across the street,
i swear the chaps' got wings on his feet.
but he grovels around in charcoal and mud,
cos they say he hasn't got athletics in his blood.
he breaks British records, doesnt seem to stop,
but the Jamaican colours flutter from his rooftop.
Olympics the dream,but more than that,
little master Owens just wants to be Black.
there lives a little black girl just next door,
i can hear her tap dance on the linoleum floor.
she sings the opera from dusk to dawn,
she prances and twirls on the family's front lawn.
"your dancings' awkward, your voice baritone,"
it's not in your blood, leave the dreams alone.
she smears fairness creams day and night,
little miss Britney just wants to be White.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Suicidal tendencies, alleged attempt in 2011
(National Scholar-Athlete)
Bipolar with psychotic features, meds necessary
(President of student government)
Anti-social features, deceptive, manipulative, lying.
(Captain of varsity athletics)
Qualifies as a pickup. Forfeits all rights. Police involvement if necessary.
(President of an all-star rugby club)
Extreme aggression. Any homicidal idealization should be taken seriously.
(Trustee Scholarship to a renown private college)
Narcotics abuse. Marijuana, LSD, Klonopin, ******* Alcohol, Painkillers
(3.7 GPA)
Masks and shields intentions. Deceptive with professionals.
(Active volunteer)
I advise that he be admitted to a hospital immediately
(Participant in community)
Drug abuse counseling, medication, extensive therapy necessary
(Leader of peers)
Diagnoses fly like a panhandlers love affairs
Your inexact science is a disgrace to what I've created
A philosophy based on your experience
Ignoring the dynamic of the human condition
****** for feeling to much
****** for not feeling enough
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
There are not enough
poems about manatees
If you are interested in human
rights being kicked like a dog
and justice being dragged
through mud, you can find it
If you are interested in love
that aches with a “burning
heart” or a “bleeding soul”
you can find it
If you are interested in death
that holds out its hand
to you like relief, or takes
one too early, you can find it
But where, I ask, do you find
a badger in a turtleneck?
Or a cup of coffee that doesn’t
sound so self important?
If you’re interested in the
ocean or the sea or maybe
a single “crushing wave
of emotion,” you can find it
If you’re interested in God
dying to save you, or God
abandoning you to the darkness
you can find it
If you’re interested in athletics—
especially running towards
dreams and horizons—and
losing and winning, you can find it
But where, I ask, do you find
a good left-handed centipede?
Or a wonderful, ice cold beer that
doesn’t turn into alcoholism?
If you want to find a poem about
how the “gray rain spills from
the clouds like the pain”
you can find it
If you don’t want to find a poem
about rain you’ll still find it
(cause those rain poems
are everywhere)
If you’re looking for a poem
about regret and forgiveness
and cruel mercy making false
promises, you can find it
But where, I ask, do you find
a barbarian ballerina?
Or a cigarette whose smoke doesn’t
outline the shadows of a lost soul?
Show me these things, show me
a fat manatee, and I will finally
take a deep breath and smile
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
Jackie Robinson is exalted
as the first Black man to play,
but far fewer fans remember Glenn Burke,
the first ballplayer openly gay.
Like Jackie, he played for the Dodgers-
(different coast and a different time.)
Glenn came up to the Majors
In the summer of 79’
Burke was strong and tall and fast
And some teammates called him “ King Kong”
Though he roomed with Reggie Smith on the road
most nights Reggie Smith slept alone.
Burke befriended Young Tommy Lasorda
which was why he was traded away.
Old Lasorda couldn’t deal with the rumors,
Nor acknowledge his own son was gay.
Glenn Burke rode the pines while in Oakland
Billy Martin never gave him much chance
When Burke injured his leg in Spring Training
That ended his time at the dance.
He drifted, his playing days over,
He used, he stole and did time.
An accident left him a *******
Unprotected *** ended his line.
No shock was the A.I.D.s diagnosis-
His sister had long known he was gay.
When she took him in he was dying
when all others turned him away.
Sandy Alderson, with the Athletics,
took pity on Burke in despair.
The team paid for his A.I.D.S. medication
and covered the cost of his care.
Sad is the fate of the Athlete unsung,
dying apart from his team.
Glenn Burke showed that a gay man could play,
That a Gay Athlete also can dream.
Glenn Burke passed a long time ago
But his story deserves to be told.
He said when your suffering, dying of A.I.D.S.
Even days in the summer are cold.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
Dice the dead mans diligence like a Dillinger or Challenger,
He gained a Dodge Wrangler like a sad handler of emotions;
Perhaps all of this is more potent than potions or consumer hand lotions plus alcoholic haphazard;
Yet I consider the price of anything to be lice on everything,
Like a fat woman’s sullen song,
The sounds still ring in the lingering enclave of my eardrums,
Which breath waves like air into my lungs.
It’s sundown,
And therefore, I’ll see you soon;
Yes, I’ll see you soon, moon.
So very soon.
May 24, 2011
May 24, 2011 at 8:04 PM UTC
I see you daily
and I've come to realize
that nothing of you is flawed.
These past years
I have been privileged
to see you:
receive letters from division I athletics
blossom from the flower of puberty
and live in a gorgeous home.
But as I broke through your flawless facade,
I saw hurt and vulnerability,
I no longer saw perfection.
Your mother- lost to cancer,
your father- an angry man,
your siblings- hateful.
I have been puzzled
to see you:
deny admissions to division I schools
let your hair grow scraggly, your face become oily
and your house be foreclosed.
You are not what I thought you were.
You are like me
you are weak
hurt
abandoned.
You, like me, are not perfect.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
an apparition in our grade one classroom door
obscured save for the halo around your head
. . . must've been the sunlight
playing with the curves of your curls
you said I wrote sentences
that would've made your grade threes weep . . .
and I was someone I didn't know existed before
someone who could write more than curved lines and straight lines
someone who played with words at break
while the other children ate protein-packed sandwiches
between chalkboard dust-clouds and sweeping up pencil shavings
I stayed in for athletics, looked through the classroom window,
searched the oak tree outside for a vision of the painted elf
I un-tacked from a perpetual race on the circular classroom weather board
see, I couldn't run with only one healthy kidney
when I just came out of hospital
where doctors cleaned their instruments in kidney-shaped dishes
my friend, June, still slept in the next hospital bed --
I hoped she wouldn't die the way Maria did --
while I read Jack and the Beanstalk
Mrs Louw asked how I had learnt to read English
I couldn't tell her -- it was something that just happened
the same way I discovered I despised steak and kidney pies
because I couldn't eat my own sickness
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
I regret (usually too late), the authority
Of the sitting government.
Any government.
Once in power (I regret that word)
The back room broking good ole boys
At the exit polls loose their senses,
Sight and hearing.
Feelings get hurt.
Taxes are wasted.
The trough gouging is too loud.
I resent lying.
I regret (mostly from the evidence),
The too full baskets of organized religion
Overflowing from indulgences;
The Roman fingers
Poaching coins for another memorial window;
The glass cathedrals
And get-a-way cars.
I resent hypocrisy.
I regret people don't arrive on time
(no matter the time);
Especially when outside anyplace waiting,
Perhaps a light for a smoke is needed,
Or there's inclement weather,
The nearby company is distasteful.
Waiting dinner.
Late children are the worse.
They cause worry.
I resent the selfishness of time.
I regret being diseased,
And hated for it.
When in remission I'm loved.
Active, not so much.
The know-its say it's a matter of will.
Like you can cure
Cancer or smallpox with thoughts.
The one symptom alone, hurt,
Would need temples of meditating chanters!
I resent condemnation.
I regret failed relationships:
Family, friends and women.
My thoughts are mine;
If I said everything
You'd have a different opinion
Of what I am.
So we don't
Because we can't
Say things: we would appear as socio-paths.
We think good and bad;
Therefore we're real.
A virtual humanity.
I resent blathering.
I regret an educational system
That believes in paradigm shifts;
Spouting new-age lingo:
If it's not broken, break it;
Selling out to athletics,
Or Mr., Ms and Mrs. know
All about education;
They went to school.
Bullies top the list.
I resent permissive parents.
Most of all,
I regret
My resentments.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Now on Cliff's Harbour sports Activity
Delight in using its Pimples to climb
You or the Mentor - sight Vicinity
Where the Air-Maiden flags her Whitened Thigh
Whitened, which your Species usually wait
Eager to indulge your Athletics prove
That, hoping 'ere ***** Groupies debate
Their pawn-teared bets to your Reflex above
Then decide - vertical, flex horizon
Either which way your stubbled trunks secure
Then breathe on Faith; And delight on Season
By their Applause earned with your Feelings pure.
Still the Mentor was Proud of your Result
Though in his mind their Cheers enhance your Salt.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
For ages
Saddled with
Domestic chores
Confined indoors
With a traditional muzzle
Devoid of a voice
With fellow housewives
We were sweltering
Under the class
And gender yoke
Seen weak though
We were strong as a rock.
Things taking
A positive turn,
When people about
Women's potential
Came to learn,
Enjoying a level ground
And expertise,
An outshining
Women farmers
We have begun to enjoy
A handsome return.
After unremitting exertion
In a special way
Drawing attention
Investor we have indeed
Created job opportunities
For numerous in need
On their turn who have
Many mouths to feed.
We members of the fair ***
If not denied a chance
Could outsmart
Many a man, in a given
Task, grappling with his part.
In the Science
And political arena
Ladies that prove brilliant
Must come to the limelight.
In the military
And peacekeeping task
On the athletics track...,
There are also women
Who merit a tap on the back.
Breaking the double yoke
Must be the era's talk
Gender based discrimination
Should no longer pose
In development's wheels
A spoke!
Let this volubly
Resonate from
North to South
And from Beijing
To New York!
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
There was a long vanished England
Of well-spoken presenters
Of the BBC Home Service,
Light Service, and Children’s Favourites,
Of coppers and tanners, and ten bob notes;
And jolly shopkeepers, and window cleaners.
I remember my cherished Wolf Cub pack,
How I loved those Wednesday evenings,
The games, the pomp and seriousness of the camps,
The different coloured scarves, sweaters and hair
During the mass meetings,
The solemnity of my enrolment,
Being helped up a tree by an older boy,
Baloo, or Kim, or someone,
To win my Athletics badge,
Winning my first star, my two year badge,
And my swimming badge
With its frog symbol, the kindness of the older boys.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
I wanted to be a psychologist
now I'm discovering biology.
I used to love doing athletics
now I'm lying down in my bed
eating chocolate bars and crying for the mess.
I loved reading books
now my library is full of dust.
My grades used to be perfect
but if you look at them right now
you won't even find an A.
I don't know who I'm trying to impress
I don't know who I'm trying to fool
I'm not myself anymore.
In depth, there lays a question:
did you live or compromise?
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 5:24 PM UTC
There is falling
and there's FALLING
and I was good at both
I swear to that completely
I'll swear that under oath
If there's a way to take a tumble
A way to fall on down
Then I'm the best example
I've spent a life time on the ground
First, we'll tackle skating
Couldn't cross and make the turn
I'd get caught and then I'd tumble
It's something I never did quite learn
I was always out there falling
While the others skated by
I could never make the motion
So...I no longer even try
Athletics, you know track and field
High hurdles, running track
It's evident, I couldn't jump
So from track I got the sack
Always had weak ankles
Was always falling down
While most kids shorts were crisp and white
Mine were stained all green and brown
I gave up and then tried camping
Just a tent, the woods and me
I never even got out once
I tripped over a tree
I mean, I fell out in the forest
And yes, I made a sound
I mean if anybody heard that noise
It was me hitting the ground
I'm not much good at anything
You can see that from my past
My body moves at one speed
My feet just go too fast
I've always been a faller
Falling's the one real thing I do
And the last time that I fell
Was the day, that I met you....
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
Through portholes of morality we search for immortality and fight for our own sanity against the turning of the tide.
Chide the weak who fear the end, for them we'll send a sedan chair
to carry them off somewhere there,
where mountains melt into the sea.
To live forever
I would be invincible but mortality is not for me
for I exist in second phase in parallel to all the days I spent,repenting of my sins and never winning first or second prize which went to heathens who told lies and pretty girls who fluttered shadowed eyes against the shadows cast out by the sun,
and anyone with half a brain, which counts me out because, I never was the same as clever clogs,forever bogging down while running on athletics fields,
who could have told me,rolled me up and sold me in bazaars and market halls,if only they had,had the ***** to make a stand against the pious and the hypocrite who never once thought to give a ****
for poor men and girls who swirled the waters by the dock and those with pockmarked,stark and staring faces trading several places to shuffle lowly in a line as once again the tide will turn to drown the scorned and those who spurned the helping hands
and the hand of fate can kiss my **** and wait for me
I'll stand with those and shuffle slowly to the end,
send a sedan chair,pay the fare
make sure it's at the end where I can see
that mortals and immortality are a crock of **** and we're only here for a bit of fun,
more shadows cast out by the sun and left to haunt the alleyways
and all the days I live I would not give a **** or seek out weak men just to help them pass beyond the pale
let them find a holy grail that suits their needs as Moses too was found among the reeds and stolen by a dynasty
A mortal,immortality still eludes the holy man who scans the heavens for a sign and yet shuffles slowly down another line
we'll all get there to share the silver chalice, if only to find that Christopher Robin divorced poor Alice and run off to where the piggy wig stood
Nothing's good that cannot last
and one more shadow casts a spell
we're going to hell get used to it.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
Vibrant-
Illuminate
A slight chill in the air-
Jump into the sea below you say I wouldn't dare,
But the rocks below are just a detourant for those not willing to take a risk.
My fight has been humble though I have been humbled many a times,
And my battle has been pretty prolonged.
Here I am, Inclined to inform you of who I am today.
I am a San Diego sunrise
Pastel hues that paint the early morning skies
Each color,
Soft-
Or vibrant and bright,
Represents my personality on a spectrum:
Calm and reserved to outgoing and extroverted.
The exuberant sun reflecting off the ocean is passion.
This image is poetry in the making.
My passion is in fact poetry.
The ocean below is intensity-
The waves crashing upon the white California sand in a continuous, mellifluous soundtrack,
Just as I continuously strive to succeed in all I do.
Failure has never been an option for me.
The soundtrack of the waves is not only my love and desire for the ocean waves, but my need for music-
All music-
Any music.
The sun rising to the top of the sky demonstrates my sky is the limit attitude in Life and the fact that I have always had the tenacity to go after what I want whether it be finally playing college athletics after a career ending ankle reconstruction surgery, or maintaining my drive to go to law school.
Finally the sun setting at the end of the day and disappearing into darkness represents how even in dark times I know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.
Darkness only lasts for so long and the sun will once again rise to display its beauty, candor and potential.
The sun is optimistic for each coming day and continues to rise even after it falls, as do I.
As a sailboat sets sail out of the harbor I feel the sun warming my soul and I know that I can continuously rise to any occasion to make it smooth sailing.
San Diego is in my heart and saltwater is in my veins-
It does not make sense for me to be anything other that a magnificent San Diego sun rise above the glistening pacific coast.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
Picked last to join teams
No athletics in my genes
I exercise a different muscle
Words my ever present hustle
Even if I don't make nada
And I can't afford no Prada
I'll be rich in other ways
Stay lifted while I blaze
A trail only few can follow
Better catch me on the morrow
Cuz today's already past
And the future comes up fast
Wide awake to take the chance
Opportunity a dance
Stay nimble on my feet
Keep it moving to the beat
Locks swaying as I go
Cuz I gotta keep the flow
No time to take a break
In the rear view all the fake
People trying to take me down
Just wanna watch me drown
But I got a mean back stroke
I'm no longer gonna choke
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
Four men born
Different and the same
Never meeting each other
Some wild some tame
One man the gift of gab
Another a musical sensation
The third given athletics
The last given determination
The first spoke beautifully
A voice like no others
Coasting through life
Doing nothing for his brothers
He grew like a ****
Top of all deeds
First wave of trouble
He surrenders and recedes
His possibilities are few
His lack of drive decided
The few feats he made
For his fears abided
The second a musical genius
His harmony was perfection
No sound he couldn’t master
His favorite the brass section
As easy as greeting the day
He played the greatest sound
Everyone enjoyed his gift
How his ability did astound
Alas one day he lost a duel
Harder he did not work
He lost time and again
So his talent he did shirk
Never again did he play
For what was the use
Too difficult the work
No lack of an excuse
Now he works in a box
His tasks painless
Never rising from ordinary
His record stainless
The third man a muscular marvel
Body carved from steel
Strong as an ox
His form ideal
In any arena
He would be winner
No blemishes on the outside
Not true of the inner
For one day he met his match
And apart did he fall
Refusing to get up
He decided to crawl
Please they all beg
But his pride was hurt
I quit his reply
He declined to convert
What a man he could have been
Had he only tried harder
Alas he did not
He’d rather be a martyr
The last man had nothing unique
Seemingly nothing great
Life just like the others
Without any special trait
He failed many times
But kept on trying
Fell many times
Yet remained undying
One day it was unbearable
Life gave its worst
Stumbled he did
Feeling cursed
He fought it through
To the very end
Trouble battled back
His will did not bend
During it all he kept going
No talent to grasp
Never did he stop
Until he did gasp
Later in life
He looked about
His trials were over
And he had clout
Because of his tests
He excelled and overcame
He had no regrets
He had no shame
Many tests taught him well
Countless hardships made him tall
Finally his gift discovered
To always rise when you fall
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC
My heels clip on
London concrete.
My hamstrings strain
To increase my stride.
I slalom around
Pavement zombies,
Phone junkies,
Loitering monkeys.
Don’t they see?
I’m late for a meeting
With a client of grandeur.
A key player.
A major money man.
(I can’t drop the name
Due to a
Signed NDA).
It was suppose to be
A blue sky meeting
On a grey winters morning.
But I slept too long,
And the tube
Went wrong,
And now I’ve
Got the dreads.
If I’m late,
My rep will be tarnished.
I’ll never secure
Another meeting again.
Because in this town,
Time is a diamond
We can’t possess.
But we know it exists;
Out there on the outskirts,
Out there in the sticks.
It’s below freezing but I’m
Working a sweat;
A pavement cardio,
A sidewalk rodeo,
A street athletics show.
There’s no way I am going
To be on time.
It’s curtains for me;
I’ve sealed my P45.
Finally I arrive.
I collapse at the entrance,
My power-walk ending
In a muted reception.
I approach the desk.
‘Yes?’
Glared a future
X-factor entrant.
‘Good morning.
I’m here to see
The top brass.
The big cheese.
The head honcho.
I was delayed, but please,
Pass my humblest regrets,
I am spinning a lie
Which I hope he accepts.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’
The young lady chewed.
‘The Great Man is away,
Tanning on a beach.
You’ll need to reschedule;
He returns in two weeks.’
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 5:29 AM UTC
My dad Joe, was a gift from heaven, put on this earth to love only one woman.
To have their children and love them true, each day with my dad was one in which you grew.
He loved and cherished each one of us three, Philip, Jacqueline & Christopher - with Hilda, his love, by his side the family was complete.
Riding a bike, driving a car, hiking up cliffs, hitting a ball, roller skating, skate boarding, travelling far, our Dad was always there to catch us lest we should fall.
Sunday trips to the beach or river, climbing Kit Hill, trips to Morwelham Quay, treks on Dartmoor, ice cream treats, and Callard & Bowser toffee
.
Swimming, body surfing, Phil learning to drive on the beach, French cricket played on the shore, all of these outings gave us fond memories we still adore.
Traveling with Chris and Mum on sunny days, staying in B&B's while they were away, Chris long jumping into the pit with Dad by his side was as good as it could get.
Dad gave us each the tools to live our lives, independently, confident and worldly wise.
He gave to me a love of the three P's - people, politics, and poetry.
To my brothers, he gave a love of all sports but mostly his beloved Cricket along with Rugby and Athletics.
When each of us married he was there by our sides, smiling with pride, accepting our partners into the fold.
To us all he advised don't do as I say or as you are told; seek out what or who makes you happy until you grow old.
As our families expanded and grew he became a Grandad, first Michael came then Simon, Jason, Robert, Sophie, Danny, Sammy, Lola, and Jonah, he encouraged them in all that they did whether sports, drawing, dancing, work choices - 9 Grandchildren kept him busy as you can imagine.
Then later in life as Great Grandchildren were added Tansy, Alfie & Roman, life remained busy.
My Dad was one in a million of that I am sure, I feel his presence every day, when out walking I feel he's not far away.
When I'm playing with the grandchildren I know he's there too, smiling with pride in everything they do.
When the family get together he's never forgotten and all of his grandchildren have their own stories to share; of Grandad and his sense of humour, his love, support, and care.
We miss you, Joe ***
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 7:43 AM UTC
Our every talk
an episode of competitive mind athletics
As each tries to outpace the other
On the eccentric field tracks of conversation.
We are more like ****** – militants,
For after every hello and before the next goodbye there always remains a trail of carnage;
Inside my eyes and on your face are the grimmest battlefields;
Emotions are always the casualties;
Paying the price for two egos clashing in frantic effort to maintain the gravities of inner pride.
Your name and mine;
Two eagles wrestling every hour
trying gravely to unsettle the establishment;
To shift the equilibrium,
To make the universe lose its balance.
Lady;
The survival of our acquaintance is based on something stronger than the spiritual;
Our mutualism
One flower least expected to flourish
I think nature made me for you;
I am the antithesis to your existence;
Only in our duality can peace exist;
Two powers of chaos
Tumultuous forces that cannot live without each other.
Teyana;
I think you know that I am the best thing that is ever going to happen to you.
{She Smiles and nods}
WordSmith_Wiz
31/12/2018
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
It's a parade
Wobbly heat waves
Children and colours
Canteen food
And the snapping sounds of foldable plastic chairs
Little athletics day
Here he comes
Handkerchief on his head, tucked into his sunglasses
Mum never came
He could be harsh
My sister cried once
There was pressure to win
I never did
I was afraid I'd be clotheslined by that finishing line
Be my guest Flash
I wasn't fast, but I wasn't slow
This is me
Relay leg no.3
Baton in my hand
Whistling thru the air
(Missing you, missing me)
Round the bend
Furthest from the crowd
Running thru heat waves
Angling like a fish, oh yeah
(Missing you, missing me)
I asked for your help
Speaking to that place in my mind that doesn't change
You gave me every weapon for this world
And I still don't know what to do
I wasn't at the funeral
I was far away, making myself out of sand at high tide
Thank you for everything
The way they remembered you, how you made peace come true, I never knew, or maybe I did
This is me
Relay leg no.3
Baton in my hand
Whistling thru the air
(Missing you, missing me)
Round the bend
Furthest from the crowd
Running thru heat waves
Angling like a fish, oh yeah
(Missing you, missing me)
It was really blooming when you left
The police man and his bunny were making fun of your emotions by then
Playing substitute friends
There was something biting that wouldn't stop
But you were appreciated by us
And still are
So many memories
This is me
Relay leg no.3
Baton in my hand
Whistling thru the air
(Missing you, missing me)
Round the bend
Furthest from the crowd
Running thru heat waves
Angling like a fish, oh yeah
(Missing you, missing me)
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 7:03 AM UTC