The Little Street
It\'s odd how the trivial feels grand when wrapped in love’s embrace.
6,100 streets in that city, just like any other, but one turns special, a cherished place.
I flew down to that humble spot where the Adorable might once have flown,
Allowed myself a ten-minute window to inhale the fragrant scent I’ve known.
Sitting in the ride, I felt shockingly appeased as I contemplated the front door on that little street,
Grey, quiet but alive, much like that day when our fleeting half-kiss was sweet.
I closely examined every move, but that lass wasn’t there, though her shadow still seemed near.
Stellar, that fleeting sight alone made her memory vividly clear.
It might sound silly, but the little I saw was peacefully comforting.
It’s said hope kills, but sometimes, it keeps alive—now waiting for a small sign from the endearing.
I\'ve sailed through the ocean of her mind, and that\'s why I don\'t ask for anything.
It\'s odd, for 6,100 reasons, to fly and allow myself to visit her place. It might be stellar in its own way, though it\'s said that true significance lies in the subtle moments we experience
By Young Fella