end of the day
end of the day
By Jente Housen
i want you to look up
notice the patterns in the leaves
become one with the freedom of the birds
hear the music hidden in a summer breeze
the joy of an orange peeled by your grandmother
smell the freshly cut grass that stains the knees of the kid down the road
the sun lighting up your freckles, like droplets on your cheeks
signalling the last rainfall of the summer
exhaling into your evening
