Nostalgia

Walking in the school compound reminded me of my time there. When I would often walk to classes and be all stressed up. Poetry will describe how hot it is for my feet (hiding behind my shoes) to touch the sandy ground, like that of a beach. And how the sun heated my head, and my eyes trying its best to wrinkle as much as it can to express the discomfort.

I'm trying to get into poetry. Wish me luck.