(Untitled)

[vincero7]

Ah, the cool, amber light shines through the beech-trees.

The wind tickles his golden hair and I

Tickle his tummy.

We sit on a branch and look beyond.

Everywhere we don't want to be looks so much

More beautiful from atop an Hill.

An Hill illuminated with amber light.

The whithering grass the side

Begins to look like golden hair.

Comments

[eyes__so_deep]

Ah, you write such lovely prose, Thomas.

[deathbycelery]

As some one who is taking two poetry classes, that is good poetry.