Day 8

When a day was just like so
And made still of stubborn crow,
I had thoughts I couldnt lose,
So they say of summer blues.

I then set out to find a friend
Out where our pastures end
And I found him where he stayed
Neath the oak that even’n swayed.

Where our younger days would walk
There wed have time taken talk,
There our thoughts met our dreams,
There they fell, lost by no means.