Stories to be told, poems to speak, and songs to sing. Busy bee aren't we? This is my journal, and I encourage you to speak your mind, please remain pleasant though, in other words, if you do not like something, refrain from foul language.
May
The sun begins to set, On another cold day, And I begin to fret, For In the dark i seemed to stay, My heart was about to fall, Before you it lay, Then you began call, Taking me out of my dismay, Now the shadows do not bound me, So in the light I play, Just frolicking with thee, In an everlasting May.