Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Starry eyed

There is this ache inside of me
I wish I could write about it
It would make a painful song
The one to which they'd still sing along

There is this child in the distance,
I wish I could write about him
As in his mother's hair, he entwines a finger
And stares at her face in pure wonder.

There is this little girl I see
Oh, how she reminds me of well, me.
If I write about her,
Would you just name it as useless banter?

There are fireflies and trees
You'd rather I write about all of that, no?
How I watch you embrace with love
The stars, the moonlight and the open breeze!


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