3
I saw the grass
It grew so high-
and during mass
to study close,
I peered through the glass and sigh-
the priest is speaking saintly rose,
my mind is off
in empty fields
I sniff the air
and growing trees,
and boom! His voice is sounding- yield
I can't; I feel the cooling breeze.
Copyright © Jake A. | Year Posted 2016
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