Sitting in a class,
Thinking of my past,
I saw a flower in the glass,
Which mean the wind had passed,
Sometimes I wish to fly,
With you nearby,
Sitting in the clouds,
Leaving our lifes without doubts,
Then the teacher comes slap me,
For dreaming about u and me,
I have to set you free,
see you where ever the wind will be.
Copyright © Duval Hyppolite | Year Posted 2011
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.