It begins with a spark;
Unquantifiable.
Curiosity spilling
Into each sentence,
Like the leftover joy
Of a vivid dream.
Slowly it grows,
A hothouse flower,
Delicate, fragile
Ethereal in it's beauty,
Tended to sweetly
By each small word.
Without warning,
A collision,
Breathless and exhilarating,
Endless ripples
Scattering us both
Among the stars.
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Author:
Kora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 17th, 2025 04:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Soman Ragavan
Offline)
Comments2
Well, that slow fuse started slowly and ended in fireworks.
Hope no flowerers were harmed in this coming together.
A beautiful sentiment that is painted in wonderful images. It is resplendent.
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