Far, far away. Sittin’ where the apple seeds grow all day. Whistle up a smile and the branches sway. Dump out the bath and keep the baby face. Nothing left of leaving - only born yesterday.
Original poetry, short stories, and other bits.
Far, far away. Sittin’ where the apple seeds grow all day. Whistle up a smile and the branches sway. Dump out the bath and keep the baby face. Nothing left of leaving - only born yesterday.