"A little space to be creative."
The air of home, Brings a familiar feeling to my bone, When you smell where you dwell, It's something you can't sell, It's a reminder of my upbringing,
By Merritt Xavier3 years ago in Poets
Luck in the sand, I thought as I stand, As I hold in my hand, Something unplanned, A found dollar bill squeezed, In the interesting texture I was pleased,
Alas I wait, And still to date, To remember the feeling, So similar to breathing, Something I once felt, That made me melt,
I'm mystified I found you, I'm deeply terrified too, Of the attention you brew, And your historic breakthrough, However I cannot part,
Grand Central Terminal, You are a terminal, But also notable, For many lines quotable, My visit made me proud, As a tourist on a cloud,
Dear couple in the back row, You look like there's something I should know, You look so happy, And it might sound sappy,
The taste of Oolong tea, Makes me feel free, The first drop calms the storm, And the rest keeps me warm, Neither black nor green,
Dear craft salesman, I haven't been a fan, However you do help my gran, In ways that span, I appreciate all the assistance,
Dear Orwell, I hope you're swell, Despite the beaming well, And your farewell, Everything's swell, I see you like where you dwell,
Dear Bully of one, I demand you be done, With your crass intimidation, That stabs my liberation, Due to your fixation, Stemmed from the narration,
Dear superhero, Deaths an absolute zero, Despite your good, Damage you could, Dear efforts of heroism, Damning recidivism,
Fricking night, Full of fright, Full of spies, Fars and highs, Flickers and frames, Frequent games, Fervently I pray,
