But she’s my north and south and
east and west.
She’s that first spring day,
and last autumn night.
She’s sunset,
and dawn.
She’s the cool rain in a hot summer day,
and a warm sunray in the coldest winter morning.
She’s the petrichor and the breeze of the sea.
She’s the biggest expression of love.
She’s herself.
But again.
She’s not mine.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
But she’s my north and south and
east and west.
She’s that first spring day,
and last autumn night.
She’s sunset,
and dawn.
She’s the cool rain in a hot summer day,
and a warm sunray in the coldest winter morning.
She’s the petrichor and the breeze of the sea.
She’s the biggest expression of love.
She’s herself.
But again.
She’s not mine.
