I stuck my head out the window this morning and spring kissed me bang in the face.
Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying.
Wear it Like a banner For the proud? Not like a shroud.
What happens to a dream deferred?
I loved my friend He went away from me There's nothing more to say The poem ends, Soft as it began- I loved my friend.
Summer was made to give you a taste of what hell is like. Winter was made for landladies to charge high rents and keep cold radiators and make a fortune off of poor tenants.