And when I sleep, I dream of spinning
because that's all my head ever does
of swinging on swingsets and carousel horses
and of fences and dried grass that looks of
gold and autumn
of midnight escapades down the bayou, the
night a mask of day
of lying on trampolines
of fire furnaces
and of you in the mornings
and the words you don't have to say
because that's all my head ever does
of swinging on swingsets and carousel horses
and of fences and dried grass that looks of
gold and autumn
of midnight escapades down the bayou, the
night a mask of day
of lying on trampolines
of fire furnaces
and of you in the mornings
and the words you don't have to say
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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