the summer

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the summer

racked like a phone screen or the pavement on the walk to school i can’t help but think i outgrew you in the holidays looking into your eyes has caused me to lose sense of reality a feeling i used to chase but no longer need you were all i needed to make it through summer

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Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

emiilytaayla’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
i sew, he dreams 0
a dance of tongues 2
revision 1
the summer 0
the bathroom 0

emiilytaayla’s Friends (1)