its 103 degrees and I’m riding in a car. Hot air rushes in the window
I’m painting my eyelids gold
My beloved points ahead and we both watch
A tiny hand hanging out the window of a car in front of us
The little hand plays with the air like it’s a friend
and somehow it makes the world feel pink and golden
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Author:
Vicecream (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 23rd, 2023 22:10
- Comment from author about the poem: Just a moment in time important enough to capture
- Category: Short story
- Views: 0
Offline)
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