Oh little idiotic thing
She pours her heart like rain, nurturing every seed,
But when the sun shines down, it's her own warmth she needs.
With every smile she gives, she lights up the dark,
Yet in the mirror's gaze, she struggles to find her spark.
She dances through the chaos, a whirlwind of grace,
But in the quiet moments, she longs for her own embrace.
Her laughter fills the room, a melody so sweet,
Yet in the silence, whispers of doubt echo at her feet.
She gathers up the broken, the lost and the forlorn,
While her own heart aches softly, like a rose with a thorn.
Oh little idiotic thing, you shine like the stars,
Even when they overlook you, you carry your own scars.
So here's to the girl who loves with all her might,
May she find her own reflection in the warmth of her light.
YOU ARE READING
Between Notes and Tacenda: The Prose of Life
PoetryIn the spaces between our spoken words and the silence that follows, life unfolds a tapestry woven from the notes we play and the tacenda we carry. For Tina, my anchor in this sea of words.
