We would stare out of windows,
Watching them race.
Each time I hoped to win,
But you always beat me.
They would glide gracefully, and skillfully,
They would dance along the windowsill.
I remember now, sitting back looking directly into the sunlight.
Waiting. Wishing. Hoping,
that it would rain again.
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Author:
Anthony Blanco (
Offline) - Published: January 31st, 2022 12:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
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