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goint521

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

5 poems·Since December 2015
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Almost Forgotten

December 25, 2015

I remember the trees,

I remember the bright beautiful flowers popping up all around,

I remember a summers breeze.

This is the only memory of my home.

 

I remember the workers, their bright orange hats,

I remember dozens of vehicles, squashing everything in their path,

I remember clouds of dust, billowing in my face.

I can barely find the memory of my home, now that a mall stands in its place.

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