6:36 pm
streaks of light pinks
are delicately placed upon the faded blue,
and a smear of gray paint
stretches from the shadows of our lives up into the brink of sky,
whispering in our ears,
desperate to be heard,
that not everything needs to be perfect
to be beautiful.
YOU ARE READING
empyrean
Poetrya little poem for the sky with each day that passes by. - 964 in poetry
