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emily-roganPoems
Their breath clouds the air, Like the smoke from a cigarette, And so that is what they pretend to do. They laugh at themselves lightly, Both thinking that this youthful innocence, Will always be apart of them. They are naive and in that, Beautiful. They have few worries or cares, Just worn shoes, And an itch to continue walking through the silent streets. One of them suggests They should lie in the road, And search above for constellations. The other agrees with excitement, And finds comfort on the pavement. But as they look up, They can not help but realize, The city lights dust the evening sky, Masking all of the speckled stars. So heartbroken they rise, And continue on forward. Never bothering to look for silly things, Like constellations, Again.
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Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
Constellation Youth
Their breath clouds the air, Like the smoke from a cigarette, And so that is what they pretend to do. They laugh at themselves lightly, Both thinking that this youthful innocence, Will always be apart of them. They are naive and in that, Beautiful. They have few worries or cares, Just worn shoes, And an itch to continue walking through the silent streets. One of them suggests They should lie in the road, And search above for constellations. The other agrees with excitement, And finds comfort on the pavement. But as they look up, They can not help but realize, The city lights dust the evening sky, Masking all of the speckled stars. So heartbroken they rise, And continue on forward. Never bothering to look for silly things, Like constellations, Again.
emily-rogan
Written by
emily-rogan
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
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