deepundergroundpoetry.com
There - she will grow.
Down the hill, there is a gate. Red roses grow, a golden summer awaits. Is it still a vivid green? The mossy stones along the stream. A leafy forest lay quiet as the song birds sing. Is this the place children go to dream?
Published 1st May 2018
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Sweet.
So compressed this piece and yet, as boundless as childhood can be, it’s this special limitation that, for a child, can open up to worlds untold where they alone can roam.
🐾
So compressed this piece and yet, as boundless as childhood can be, it’s this special limitation that, for a child, can open up to worlds untold where they alone can roam.
🐾
Anonymous
- Edited 27th Dec 2019 12:45pm
1st May 2018 7:49am
<< post removed >>
1st May 2018 7:03pm
4th Sep 2018 6:55am
I feel like this poem was of a memory of my childhood...very soft, yet moving.
23rd Dec 2019 3:32am
This is such a wonderful little poem you've written, IntoTheRain. Absolutely amazing :)❤️
20th Mar 2020 9:12pm
