I would, if would received permission from could, be the beams beneath your feet, the planks that age and give sound to the boot heel you clip clop atop me.  I would be the old wood, the splintered remains, the warp from the water and the rust from the nail.  I would, when instructed delicately by should, be happy to feel you dance across me if promised the chance, the hope, the fleeting possibility of a glance, one, down to notice the leaves that fell asleep on my shoulders. Just Fallen Leaves On Old Wooden Beams (by TylerKnott)

I would, if would received permission from could, be the beams beneath your feet, the planks that age and give sound to the boot heel you clip clop atop me.  I would be the old wood, the splintered remains, the warp from the water and the rust from the nail.  I would, when instructed delicately by should, be happy to feel you dance across me if promised the chance, the hope, the fleeting possibility of a glance, one, down to notice the leaves that fell asleep on my shoulders.

Just Fallen Leaves On Old Wooden Beams (by TylerKnott)