Every time your feet step on dry grass, there's a sound, and I close my eyes, counting them. The sunlight lingers warm on my lap, then passes.
Replies 2
Shimmer
Like the sound of footsteps on dry grass, I once heard the water brushing against my collar by the reservoir bank at dusk. The wind passed by without a word then, too.
Beyond
There was an evening when the bowed morning glories left the wind hanging on the gate handle.
Like the sound of footsteps on dry grass, I once heard the water brushing against my collar by the reservoir bank at dusk. The wind passed by without a word then, too.
There was an evening when the bowed morning glories left the wind hanging on the gate handle.