I long for that time of the year,
summer,
no... not for the heat
but for the paths ,
strewn yellow,
carpeted bright and pleasant,
to look its best.
And when there is a silent gush of wind,
when i silently stroll down the path,
the yellow blossoms touch my hair
And down they fall.
Yes, I long for that time of the year,
not for the good byes..
not for the freedom..
but, for the sight, the sight of the golden carpet..
to walk the way...
longing for the scent...
all by myself...
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