“From the busy streets, towards the calm beach, that is the goal in life” Gun Roswell
Busy, and too loud, are the streets I now walk
There is so much noise, I cannot her anyone nor myself talk
As I move forward, a lot of unhappy people I stalk
Sometimes just to the nature of things I this chalk
But then I start to dream, as I continue still with much steam
My face lights up, almost see the gleam, as it beams
When a blurry vision, almost seeing the image, of place without scrimmage
As it appears to my mind, but it seems so hard to focus, before I have crossed the line
Just then, I see it, I can feel it, grasp it
Then something happens, shit!
I start running, ever faster, chasing the shadow
What is it? A green meadow?
To be continued