I miss you,
my baby angel dove.
I miss your
bright and coiled
red hair,
your milky skin
so velvety
as my nose felt
while tickling
to pretend to be
the hand that holds yours.
Those soulful crystal eyes
speak little cries and
sing the smiles
that are a conflict
to describe exactly,
and to balance out
your poetic madrigals
comprising your voice
are a shower
of the cutest
apricot freckles;
immortal glimmers
of moondust
having developed into
blushworthy art...
I miss you.
YOU ARE READING
indoors.
PoetryWhat's a college junior to do when her young adulthood has been robbed of a rainbow of events, support, more than one tight bond, and life lessons? The birth of this collection of poetry.
