writing

Memory Lane

Sunlight flickers through the weeping moss,

The oaks limbs are heavy with overgrowth.

A light breeze floats through the window.

She sticks out her arm, weaving her hand

Through the wind as the car moves on.

Late 80s and early 90s music beckons back to a time,

A time when life was simple. Her mind drifts,

Drifts back to riding with her cousin

Down winding mountain roads, laughing

While talking about boys who stole hearts.

Oh, to be back when life was full of bliss!

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