Harsh lines separate the night from day,as I wake up in foreign places after long nights.
Paint drips like water falls,
my skin is wet from those days at the river.
Black to white and ash,
Smoke rises and dissipates into thin air.
My feet up on the dashboard while you drive,
I sing those songs to the rushing air beside me.
As I recall those days ago,
the best summer of my life.
Always coming back home to you.
Question of the blog:
When was the best summer of your life?
1 comment:
The best summer of my life was the one between tenth and eleventh grade. I didn't have to work yet and my best friends had just started driving. The joy of being able to go wherever we wanted (even though it was just to the mall and Stone Mountain, GA) was a sense of freedom I've never recaptured.
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