Poetry

Summer

I don’t think I can ever stop myself anyway
So, I wave my hand as we drift away
Your back turned toward me as I watch you fade
Oblivious. Yet that’s for the better.

Metronome Reality

And so my friend you now comprehend
why writing is a track where the end spells lack.
Like a metronome’s pendulum poetry is a medium
that keeps me going down this track and coming back!

DC

But even if her gaze was just as fuzzy as his
She can still see
How wonderful he is
His face
His grace
His smile
His dimples
His mannerisms