The old house up the road.

The old house up the road.

As I walk down a dirt road, I see an old home with peeling paint. Many years ago, the person who lived there, whom you may know, The reason was that a chilly wind I felt on my skin blew out of the house, a small, tiny mouse came out, and a man with a grey beard shouted out a story. The moon never beams without bringing me dreams, and the stars never rise until I open my eyes, so here I lay back down by your side one more time. In my dreams, I smell the scent of apple blossoms, and I see golden daffodils sway in the cool summer breeze. All I have left is this mouse and my dreams.