Riding with the windows down
The music up
The indigo spilling out like ink across the sky
Going to a little place only we know
Where we can lay back on a hill and wait for the sun to come up again
Drinking wine and making extraordinary plans
Sharing memories and secrets
Whispers in the dark
Pinky swears and cross the heart promises
Some we'll keep and some we won't
And some were only made because the moon was full and the stars were dancing
~doc
Ooh, I like that. I hope you can dig it! Stop by again tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment