It was Summer,the first time I saw her,feet wet in the morning dew,
The air is warm,and heavy.
And for a moment,I saw the world in,her eyes.
It’s the motion i think,That makes the words come.The road stretched out ahead,
There’s mud on my boots,And it smells like rain.
There are certain,
times,
You may fade,
into the light,
Let me carry the burden,dear friend,
How many?
How many words,does it take,before your writing,makes sense?
Homework undone,tests never taken,