When I look outside, I see a dirt road
It reminds me of the olden days
When people use to ride horses
And wear old fashioned clothes
I would love to be in that past life
A life with no care, A life with no sorrow
Not ever will you feel so alone
There's buildings made of wood
There's buildings made of bricks
There's the old school bell waiting on the kids
Life is full of choices, you just gotta pick one
I wanna be a writer, a best selling author
And yet I'm only 15, but feel so much younger
By: cris son
Age: 15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem