She's looking on her phone waiting for 11:11
She play some music, close her eyes and quietly listen
She's thinking, should she hold her pen again?
She's wondering every now and then
She's humming, feeling the melody
She wants to sleep yet she's not sleepy
She open her hands wide, feeling the sensation of being free
Yet her mind was imprisoned of the thought of what she could be
The music ends, she was serenaded
But still thoughts was there never been faded
She did notice the time, 11:11
She wish and hope that it will be granted by the one whose in heaven
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That certain she is me. Hi everyone I am your poet. I am one of those 11:11 wisher.
