deepundergroundpoetry.com

i should be able to save a daft without a fucking title.

I am sliding down the sidewalks of my youth
where the grass and dirt cling to my shoes
I count the turns of the wheel on my bike
Of moments of isolation and warmth of friends alike
My hands block the glaring sun from my eyes
Never wanting them to end, my childhood highs
On my back, in the grass
thinking on my not so distant past
I miss the places that have seen much change
Such times with you I would never exchange

Tristitude
Written by Tristitude
Published
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