"What are you doing?" He asked over the phone, miles away.
"Sitting outside," she responded quietly.
"It's about to storm you know?"
"Yes," she whispered again. "But it feels nice out."
The wind blew slightly, tossing her hair around.
The stars were invisible but she still imagined them, bright and confident.
The trees swayed, seeming to whisper in their own way.
And every other creature kept quiet, awaiting the storm.
She imagined him going outside too.
She imagined him going out onto his porch, and listening to the trees whispering their own love song.
She imagined him becoming silent with the creatures.
She imagined him closing his eyes and wishing upon an invisible star that he were with her too.
YOU ARE READING
Paper Planes
PoesíaLetters to him disguised as paper planes. I always think of you. Sincerely, Yours. 《Poems about my first love》
