Sat in the shadows
Of the old oak tree
I painted my nails
I thought out loud
Smiled a few times
Laughed, cried
Sat in the shadows
Of the old oak tree
Sleeping, breathing,
Takin in life, real nice
I can live here
I thought to myself
Maybe not forever
But it can be arranged
Sat in the shadows
Of the old oak tree
Being me, that's all
Being me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem