With a look of childish delight plastered across my eyes,
I glance to see the sunlight filtering over his figure, cloaking him in a soft light.
The spinning sugar isn't even on my mind as I study with love struck awe, a man so sown with flaws but perfect in this moment.
The sugar on my lips doesn't taste half as sweet as the emotions filling my soul,
A hug that lasts a second to long, feeling that neither of us know when to let go.
A soft spoken word, but not the ones I want to say.
YOU ARE READING
Moving the Mountains
PoetryPoetry used to bring down countries and inspire artists and break and win over hearts. This poetry is meant for the same fate, if only one truly decides to read it.
