Little fingers
Extend outward,
A gap between each finger,
The sun shining through.
Behind each finger,
Rustling trees,
Bend in the wind,
Down to each other.
And to the little mind
Of the little boy,
With the little fingers,
The trees were kissing.
And to the bending trees,
And to the rustling wind,
And to the shining sun,
The little fingers,
Of the little boy
With the little mind,
Were kissing them.
uh-oh I’m getting a sense of deja vu. The subtlest of moths tickle my skin fill me with warm, aching dread How do I say “hi,” without sounding high or blushing a feverish hue? I could sit around liste
I. Meringue we used to scamper up the hill just to taste soft sugar crystals melt onto our tongues. i miss those chocolate chips, those oak doors that opened only for us. II. Egg Tart strawberry short
It seems like yesterday. Those happy days on the beach. Mature waves rolling in, With knowledge to teach. Shovels kissed the sand, Merry waves splashed the shore, Friends built play forts, As I listen
