What a silly notion to think
The wind blows just for me.
Sweeping gently, alive with joy,
Dancing around the trees
Or Maybe it’s the big yellow star,
Suspended inside a painters sky,
Whose love is bound to only exist
Outside the shadows of you or I?
Possibly his pale ghostly glimmer,
A grin from within the moon
That burns electric,
a mounting passion
Of a heated lovers swoon?
Or perhaps the petals of a flower
In a quantum colored hue
That proudly exclaims
Without hesitation that
love still blooms here too.
Simple details to be reminded
That on even the grayest of days,
The color of the spirit flows rich,
And will never run flat or fade.
Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 11:32 AM UTC
What a silly notion to think
The wind blows just for me.
Sweeping gently, alive with joy,
Dancing around the trees
Or Maybe it’s the big yellow star,
Suspended inside a painters sky,
Whose love is bound to only exist
Outside the shadows of you or I?
Possibly his pale ghostly glimmer,
A grin from within the moon
That burns electric,
a mounting passion
Of a heated lovers swoon?
Or perhaps the petals of a flower
In a quantum colored hue
That proudly exclaims
Without hesitation that
love still blooms here too.
Simple details to be reminded
That on even the grayest of days,
The color of the spirit flows rich,
And will never run flat or fade.