Poets' Practice Pad

Chance was a necessity
when the tiny propellers,
of the lost heart
searching for shelter
fluttered with excitement
in one empty station
when your eyes hovered over
a silhouette and
you suddenly hoped
what you already knew.

For the one who waited,
a familiar smile
ripened with years and warm
matching yours, for his name
vibrated, remote and clear,
on your lips.
And with senses fine,
you covered the distance
between you and him
and reached the infinite
in his glance.




Sig by karjia96

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