812

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period—
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest ***** you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay—

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

At that moment, the truth of all our feelings were exposed. And with that said, we decided our door should be closed.

Because maybe our success story isn’t us ending up together, but finding out that you and I aren’t meant for each other.

You are not your parents
Nor who the cruel others make of you
You are the hardbound books you read
and the songs that by heart, you knew

You are not just one color
You are not just blue, red, nor green
You are the beats that you dance to
And the words you say you mean

Write  your own dreamy stories
The pen is on your hand
Don't let others write your plot
Don't let it come out so bland

You are who you make of yourself
Don't let the world tell you otherwise
Try to explore deep inside of you
Before your true self pay the price