I walked amongst the young last night. Like dry tumbleweed blowing across a thick green lawn. Young firm bodies touched and played as I watched with my sepia glasses on.
Rich sweet music rose up from where they were. Young sweet voices raised in harmonious youth. As I cross-faded in and out of visions of my own from once upon a time
I walked amongst the young last night. And they paid me no mind. I was once there playing with them on that fresh green lawn. Funny how then, i don’t remember any tumbleweed.
Bosco
Why Eye Write 