The tint of the glasses is the color of the past,
As I write the words that are already written.
The sounds of school kids playing fills the air.
My skin is kissed by the radiance of the sun beams surrounding me.
The wind runs it's fingers through my hair.
I am completely in this moment,
Perched here high on top of this magical fortress.
This is my happy place.
As I write the words that are already written.
The sounds of school kids playing fills the air.
My skin is kissed by the radiance of the sun beams surrounding me.
The wind runs it's fingers through my hair.
I am completely in this moment,
Perched here high on top of this magical fortress.
This is my happy place.
No comments:
Post a Comment