The green surrounds me
And I breath in the crisp air
And it burns my lungs
Cleanses them
From the stress of breathing
-The woods are all I've ever known
YOU ARE READING
Gone
Poetry"1 2 3 breath in 4 5 6 breath out And I repeat this pattern Until I no longer have to count -But I haven't not counted yet" Poetry Created on 10-26-18
2
The green surrounds me
And I breath in the crisp air
And it burns my lungs
Cleanses them
From the stress of breathing
-The woods are all I've ever known
