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.
-
Author:
Skye Bellasario (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 30th, 2017 18:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments1
Great write
Thank you!
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