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
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