From her playground days,
To the last day of high school
She was a roaring fire.
A burst of red within
A black and white painting.
Her aim was to die with memories,
Not the dreams she never managed
To catch.
To others,
She was a blur
They never could focus.
To him,
She was impossible
To capture.
She was an illuminating firefly,
Whizzing around the bystanders.
They didn't quite understand
Those who have a passion
To never stop
Cannot be stopped.
She was a scintillating star
In a dark night sky.
I suppose
Some lights are too bright
Too last.
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Author:
Skye Bellasario (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 30th, 2017 18:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- User favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet.
Offline)
Comments2
Some can look towards a bright light and still not see it, for they don't know what to look for. But we here on MPS see with poetic eyes the beauty of you sky.
Poets always can AP 🙂 Thanks for the fave!
Great write
Thank you!
Welcome
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