making bad art
in a snowbank
looking at the clouds
hoping for the stars
and the tenderness
of your kiss
i live for the simple pleasures
whenever you put me
in a little spot of your life
i want to slip out tears of joy
at the end of the night
i have a slice of french bread
and land o' lakes butter
warm from the microwave
and think fragile thoughts
i am afraid to confess
my ardor for you
how you can't tell a story
that i don't adore
and like your stories
i idolize you
like the simplicity
of bread and butter
This is warm and peaceful and sensual. I really enjoyed reading your word today.
Jessica