Intime, some time,
thefirst sunset will pass,
andwe sit here in idle silence,
separatedby glass.
Theclouds roll away,
andreveal the first star.
Twinklingso bright,
likea candle from far.
Oneby one,
candlesappear in the sky,
eacha beautiful and shimmering
whitespeck up so high.
Andas each sunset comes,
andin turn they will go,
allthe days they will count,
inthe wind, rain, and snow.
SoI will wait here,
waitfor the glass to break.
Untilthe day comes,
toreveal our fate.
Intime, some time,
thefirst sunset has passed,
andwe sit here, now together,
themoment to ever last.
YOU ARE READING
Burnt Memories
PoetryA collection of poems written by myself. If some seem to be less descriptive or meaningful than others, it may be one I had written back in 2012. I might even pull out some from 2008, when I was seven and eight years old. So yes, that means I am...
