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Rated: E · Poetry · Community · #1310452
For Larry's Campfire
The autumn breeze whispers my name
as I walk down Turnberry Street.
Nothing will ever be the same,
since I followed my heart's beat.

Stopping to pluck a red rose,
a breeze whips through my hair.
The prickly leaves tickle my nose.
I pause, and can only stare.

So much beauty on Turnberry Street,
I think as I walk along.
Flashing a smile to others I meet,
it's here I know I belong.
© Copyright 2007 SHERRI GIBSON (sherrigibson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1310452-Calling-Me