i miss my home’s old golden cherry trees
i miss when i could write a poem quickly
i miss my hair dancing in the cold breeze
but the arrow of loss has just missed me
i miss the spark my young hands had once made
i miss the creativity i had
my dreams of running stands of lemonade
my dreams for my mother and for my dad
my path is obscure, but i know it’s bright
i know my dreams were never once just fake
i cling to the sun’s neverending light
apparently now sonnets i can make
i miss what i said that i’ll always do
but paths of past won’t lead me back to you
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 1:14 PM UTC
i miss my home’s old golden cherry trees
i miss when i could write a poem quickly
i miss my hair dancing in the cold breeze
but the arrow of loss has just missed me
i miss the spark my young hands had once made
i miss the creativity i had
my dreams of running stands of lemonade
my dreams for my mother and for my dad
my path is obscure, but i know it’s bright
i know my dreams were never once just fake
i cling to the sun’s neverending light
apparently now sonnets i can make
i miss what i said that i’ll always do
but paths of past won’t lead me back to you
and the moon followed me wherever i went