Soft Cotton Squeezed

Cotton rocked back inside that moody patch. And white washed fence with songs of the southland and lazy dusty bottoms my coon hound and ford pick up how I prayed. Eyes inside the curtains lovely sleep and deeply to reveal and tongues are slowly moved back and forth I hear muffled sound. Brown eyes can't but slowly follow arresting new sundresses old and never out of fashion giving not the sun a yellow thought. Southern heat and lazy days I sip ice tea through a clear long straw day old butter milk and corn bread hear it sweetly call. While salty sweat pools in shadows cool I find with no regrets those tanned cotton bottoms tan brown skins. Southern common sultry post modern looks seen in a page turning southern living magazine while clouds white warm some are even hot on day's like this while to most is all I see Soft cotton squeezed.