Old House

 

If I am the old house that sits alone

then you must be the cold wind that blows

the disturbed air that fills with static

rumbles of thunder in my attic

If my mind is like fields of green

and my thoughts were skies of blue

then you must be the storm clouds rolling through

 

If I am the city beneath dragging feet

my heartbeat the people that walk the street

then you must be the quiet dread that creeps

seeps into the walls

blanketing in a foggy sheet

shrouding my imagination

making my lights grow weak

 

If I am the forests and trees

my mind the leaves that blow on the breeze

if my memories are the rivers and seas

then you must be the harsh winter freeze

that makes leaves stop growing

and my thoughts stop flowing

if I am the ground

Then you must be the weather that wears me down

 

Thanks For Reading,

Peace & Love.

Kyle.