Two more days.
Time to fit the birth of a sun and formation of galaxy.
Time to fit the rise of mountains and erosion to desert.
I wish I had your hand to guide me,
Through the battlefield,
Pulled into nothingness,
By corpses of dead suns.
Just pull me close and let us revolve around each other,
Forever lost in dance.
Together, forever.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of Tiny Marbles
PoetryA collection of the extraordinary, fantasy distilled and reshaped into short poems.
