June
Her Month came after the May;
The gloomy days as she may say;
A days that’s sad and forlorn;
Nearing the time she was born.
Her Eighteenth year to celebrate;
The life she always seemed to hate;
Roses, candles and different balloons;
A party to take to welcome her doom.
But as she thought of what has changed;
Words started with the old page;
Where memories of green eyed scattered;
Realizing, her feelings never faltered.
The sun reflects in her bed;
Her curtains in widened set;
She stands and wore her glasses;
then gasped when she saw the roses.
YOU ARE READING
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...
