little hand
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There was no real winter in the desert.
As children, we would stair at the sky
And wish that the small white flakes would
Fall from the heavens and kiss our faces,
Like they did for the children on tv.
Sitting on the dusty ground;
looking, eyes scanning, always prowling for the little black speck.
The little black speck that shows life was here,
Here fifty million years have passed,
IF there was a job,
that could change your life,
what would you say.
Wouldnt that persuade you to achieve your dream,
I mean, who wouldnt want better for themselves
Isnt that why we're here
Many languages I will speak,Lessons are what I seek.To succeed in future careers,First I must join my college peers.
