Some days were better than others
Some days I passed by, beat, torn by snowy haymakers
Thrown by multiple hands
Some days I held the flowers that I never gave to you
Some days the flowers would be arranged in a beautiful array
Some days they were wilted
But it became my routine
Stop and wait,
Stop and wait,
Stop and wait,
It became a rhythmic cycle waiting for you
Stop and wait,
Stop and wait,
Stop and wait,
And when you showed
I never boarded; I don’t know why
Until one day three haymakers knocked me out
And I didn’t show anymore
About the Creator
Ty
Using words to paint pictures
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