I saw you that night
In wings, graceful
You flew towards me
Not to me
But over me
Turns out you're someone else's shooting star
Not a mind to me
If it's where you're supposed to go
Then I'll have my stand
YOU ARE READING
Purple Hyacinth
Poetry[First of The "Hyacinth" Poetry Book Series] I once wished that we won't wither. But I'm sorry, I guess those flowers were us after all.
