"a penny for your thoughts?"
she asked the boy
on the other end of the bench
with his head hanging down.
he looked up,
smiled,
and whispered "beautiful."
she nodded in agreement,
dazing at the beautiful
garden flowers
dancing in the wind,
but little did she know
he was talking
about her.
-valentina accardo
YOU ARE READING
a palette of poems
Poesiawriting is art and this is my palette of poems. [this is a collection of unfinished thoughts, poems, and whatever else comes to my head. some pieces may not make any sense because it's all a jumbled mess in my mind that I attempt to put into words...
