March
The name was March, she finally knew;
Green eyed guy with red lips too;
Smile to gaze and nose to trace;
And a heart that's worth a craze.
The name was March, from a month too;
Who played guitar in Twelfth Avenue;
His shirt, his bag, everything was blue;
But the eyes remained so warm and true.
The green and blue made a promise;
To never leave each other’s back;
But as days went, the vow amiss;
That in walk to heart, the green stopped.
His name was March; and he saved her;
He was born in month, she remembered;
Then made a promise that should be done;
But all that happened
was he stopped
then ran.
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Plain June - Editing
PoetryThey call her June; Was born in Month, A bit of weird, And was always smart. They call her June; A girl of plain, Unflavored life, And boring game. They call her June; A serious nerd, Who always wear Glasses for blurred. They call her June; And laug...
