Used to sit way back when in the dirt under that apple tree,
Riding that pony simple and care free,
And we waited years to dig up the old toy dog dens again,
Lost them all somehow,
Just to dig them up again a few too many years later,
Having spent years under that old tree,
and now the grass it's grown back,
and I'm too grown to dig them memories, dog dens, back up.
Ain't it hell being to grown up to dig the memories back up.
YOU ARE READING
When Sanity is Lost
PoetryAnd I just couldn't stop, before I knew it I was picking the pen up again. My second book in process this is soon to begin editing once my last one is done. As always hope you enjoy and find my insta @these.are.true.feelings
