I've replayed scenarios in my head
Moments,
Glimpses,
Clip of the little things,
Maybe the simple sighs and smiles
Setting, places unfounded, unknown still
The mood, colors,
even how strong or slow the wind will caress the trees
I am still, yet, unprepared
of this phrase, you and me
or will there ever be
What name
would weigh like gold
What soul
would I shower diamonds of affection to
Or will there ever be
YOU ARE READING
Plague Prosaic
PoetrySimple things, doesn't have to be right, doesn't have to be wrong, it just have to be. A 'kind-of' a journal about everything ordinary inside a mind so chaotic. All Rights Reserved ©Lazidoura 2021
