#1065-Forgotten
30/06/2020
Crowded.
Like thoughts,
In my head.
Windows open.
A slight breeze.
Clouds drifting.
Daylight fading.
The keyboard gives voice,
To silent thoughts.
Neil young sings,
Heart of gold,
To a summer storm.
One of those days.
When things feel clear.
Maybe raindrops,
Are washing away,
Layers of a past,
I can’t remember.
