"Spring sprang. Summer sang."
-
Off to the park I headed.
Not Hyde, nor Green; it’s to Regents I’m wedded.
The gentle breeze, the whispering leaves.
All senses awoken, yet not a word spoken.
"Spring sprang. Summer sang."
-
Off to the park I headed.
Not Hyde, nor Green; it’s to Regents I’m wedded.
The gentle breeze, the whispering leaves.
All senses awoken, yet not a word spoken.
