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natasha-trulliaPoems
We sit by each other, In patched wollen sweaters. Smeared with dirt, Our faces red, But yours shining, I kiss your little cheek Hoping it gets better. The stars twinkle, As the twilight arrives, I offer thin soup, And two stories, About the tiger who lost his tail, And the frog who drowned. Your palms, tiny, innocent, I hope they never change, I wish all the world for you. The mind swamped, The body electric, I was too young To know any better. We sit here amongst the rubble And the stray island cats, I try not to break down, Not in front of you. Your beautiful black eyes, They come alive with hope. But amidst all this rubble Hope is the only luxury I can afford.
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
Of Hope and Chances
We sit by each other, In patched wollen sweaters. Smeared with dirt, Our faces red, But yours shining, I kiss your little cheek Hoping it gets better. The stars twinkle, As the twilight arrives, I offer thin soup, And two stories, About the tiger who lost his tail, And the frog who drowned. Your palms, tiny, innocent, I hope they never change, I wish all the world for you. The mind swamped, The body electric, I was too young To know any better. We sit here amongst the rubble And the stray island cats, I try not to break down, Not in front of you. Your beautiful black eyes, They come alive with hope. But amidst all this rubble Hope is the only luxury I can afford.
Written by
natasha-trullia
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
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