She looked for my poem,
\nas if I\u2019d found a star
\nsmall enough,
\nto put in her pocket,
\nlike a small bird
\nfluttering with white wings,
\nand blue dreams,
\na Cyclops\u2019 eye,
\nseeing everything.
\nA moment when love was exchanged,
\nput into light.<\/p>\n
She cherished something
\nthat grew,
\nunlikely,
\nfrom a vague space,
\nfrom a heart
\nthat frequently lost its way.
\nI saw
\nhow huge her heart was.
\nIt was a space,
\nbigger than a star
\nneeds to breathe.
\nIt burned with white hope,
\ntraveled in pure lightness.<\/p>\n
So I gave her a poem,
\nday after day,
\nlike a moth
\nrising from a marsh.
\nLess than she deserved,
\ndew from old grass,
\nbut a star for her,
\nnothing less than a star.
\nA kiss to put on her lips,
\na poem,
\nto put music in her heart.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
She looked for my poem, as if I\u2019d found a star small enough, to put in her pocket, like a small bird fluttering with white…<\/p>\n