The Memories

The Memories are like a scar

An old white wooden house.

The screeching sound of the

Bus each morning.

A loving old man

The Memories

Of his warm smile

His idiotic laugh

His deep but soft voice

His sandy blonde hair

Most of all his love.

My tears are like a waterfall

Shimmering down my face

When the sun rises

I think of you

When the sun sets

I dream you’re hear

I miss you