Prose/ Poetry



Summer cicadas passed,

Wipe your cheeks, Rosey Red,

Like the leaves,

You'll blend in if you aren't careful,

So go, wipe,

Wipe yours days away,

New ones will come,

And they can be better,

So wipe your cheeks, Rosey Red,

The cold will come, so please stay warm,

The wind always hits the bridge hard, you know better,

You know better, Rosey Red,

There go the last specks of red,

Rosey Red, don't forget who you are,

Though the days of yesterday are no more.