She wished that she could give him all the stars in the galaxy, but she herself was only a speck of dust.
She wished that she could gift him a bouquet of the prettiest flowers in the world, but she herself was only a seed.
She wished that she could sing him every lullaby in the world, but she herself was only a beat.
She wished that she could paint him with every shade of happiness she could find, but she herself was composed of only blacks and greys.
She wished that she could buy him everything he desired, but she herself was only a single mother struggling to find her place in the world.
She wished that her love was enough.
What she didn't know was that to her little boy, her love was all-encompassing and wondrous, like all the stars in the galaxy put together.
Her love lured him in and made him blossom, like every flower grazing the earth.
Her love whispered in his ears and gave him sweet dreams as he blissfully slept, like every lullaby in the world.
Her love painted him in every hue of happiness in existence.
Her love was enough for him.
Enough, and so much more.
~Via
• • •
I need a title for this poem pronto. I have officially run out of creative things to name my poetry.
YOU ARE READING
Paroxysm |✓
PoetryYou ask people about love, They tell you about heartbreak. You ask people about smiles, But when aren't they fake? You ask people about sorrow, And their words could fill oceans. So if you want to hear mine, Here's my whirlwind of emotions. • •...
