I used to hate constellations,
But now they remind me of you,
And your excitement at finding them,
And now they make me happy,
As I find myself wandering aimlessly,
Looking at the sky watching stars shine
In the darkness,
Wondering why I ever hated them
In the first place
g.c.g
YOU ARE READING
The blossom of a poet
PoetryWords fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like the spring, beautiful and light, but just like the seasons, the poetry changes, the autumn comes and the words become heavy, falling quickly...
