51 ¦ Ravella
We drive with the roof down
Through an avenue of beeches
Forming a canopy over our heads.
The sun warms my face while
The wind plays with my hair.
I throw my hands up in the air
And whoop like a joyful sprite.
Drew chuckles beside me,
A genuine, heartfelt delight
From the depths of his soul.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro