Feb 13
In the eve of Lover's day,
Orbs glistened in the pitch black velvet of the cool night,
Where she stood, at the edge of the garden path.
Waiting silently; stilly; stoically.
She didn't know how small and insignificant she was.
Nor did she know the strange facts her brother did,
Like the fact that she was currently hurtling through space,
At 1000 miles an hour.
No. No, she did not know this.
What she did know was how pretty the sky was.
How soft the shamrock grass was under her toes.
Where the last sweet was hidden away from her mother.
And she smiled. A satisfied, full smile.
Content with life.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
