I love to turn pages,
Of my photo album,
And recall the memories,
Those photos hold.
A little baby,
Who once was me,
In my Mom's hands.
Playing with my Dad,
And grand parents.
In our old home,
With uncles and aunts.
First photo with,
My annoying brother.
Holding hands,
With my nursery friends,
And the first day of school,
Which I didn't cry.
When I look at the little girl,
Who once was me,
I feel jealous,
For that happy innocnt days.
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Side of The Moon
PoetryOur minds are also somewhat like the dark side of the moon. There are some secrets no one knows, except us. Sometimes those secrets come out as words. So take a peek at my dark side... 🥇𝟙𝕤𝕥 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝟙 𝔸𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 🏅 𝟝𝕥𝕙 𝕡𝕝𝕒�...
