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The Air I Breathe
October 31, 2016
Going back on those old gravel roads,
We've already been down.
Where we stopped to pick wildflowers
and weave them into crowns.
And how you think that I'm beautiful in my purest form;
when I'm laughing in your front seat with no makeup on.
When my hair gets wind blown and my cheeks turn pink,
you like to laugh and joke and pick on me.
There are a billion small moments
I wouldn't change for anything.
Cause you are my everything.
The air I breathe.
© Sara M., Milford, CT
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