That run in rivers of icicles
Remembering times of tricycles
Down a road twisting and long
Twisted into the memory of a song
That trickles stories onto the deck
Which fall swiftly in in droplets from the neck
Just a day that captures many a moment
Gently, like the curve of fingers bent
In such a way that no image supplies
The true state of truly happy sighs
[insert image here]
No comments:
Post a Comment