was visiting again.
He'd come by,
some nights,
illuminating the room
with his soft glow and
spark beautiful dreams
just by simply exsisting
close by.
Some nights, he'd hum melodies
as old as time itself
to ease restless thoughts
into peace.
And once tired,
he'd return to his home,
Skyward.
YOU ARE READING
My mini sagas
Poetry[0.5] Home Home, for me, Isn't the place I grew up in. It's my friends. Songs. Beautiful moments. Train rides, Sleepovers, The ocean And escaping the rain in a café. It's also here: My online friends, wonderful people, amazing stories. I want you t...
