Conditions of Use
Lie beneath a spreading tree
With golden flowers in the sun.
Count to five on all the petals,
Never think of five plus one.
Watch the building-crammed horizon,
Sky no longer meeting ground.
Watch the golden flowers wither
Watch the golden dreams fall down.
I like this poem because im in after school.
Article posted February 8, 2012 at 03:52 PM •
comment • Reads 442
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