deepundergroundpoetry.com

Swinging

The day we were

swinging on the

swing:  did I

really know you

then?  You were

my shelter and

my shade.  I am

still standing where

you left me:  do the

flowers that I sent

you mean anything or

only scent?
Written by marcella1
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0 reading list entries 0
comments 0 reads 42
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
POETRY
17th August 1:57pm by admin
COMPETITIONS
6th June 9:17am by admin
COMPETITIONS
4th June 3:24pm by admin
SPEAKEASY
16th May 1:07pm by admin
POETRY
11th May 11:35am by katalon_test_user
POETRY
9th May 1:15pm by admin