there's a place in the stories
that my mother sew
“the end of the world”
where dreams come true
“whatever you'll lose there
will find your way back to you”
she said. “it may take a century
or perhaps two”
where the land stands high
and yet bows to the raging blue
that was where you
bid me adieu
out of my mind,
searching for a clue
unknowing of your form
that some called true
at the place in the stories
that my mother sew
"the end of the world"
is where I found you
YOU ARE READING
Perpetually
Randomthis is whatever comes to my mind when everything else fails to. © beaucolic
