I am thinking of that time
in the ripe fields of June
the carefree of our bare feet
cool upon the spongy ground
warmth of the afternoon sun
all the berries red and round
the mad deliciousness of
falling to the ground.
poetry & things
I am thinking of that time
in the ripe fields of June
the carefree of our bare feet
cool upon the spongy ground
warmth of the afternoon sun
all the berries red and round
the mad deliciousness of
falling to the ground.