day 1
i wasn't aware that eyes could carry seasons,
but in yoursâ i witnessed spring.
it was fresh and light,
quite improbable to catch.
i reached out in thought, in the hopes to belong,
but maybe i was meant to bloom somewhere.
All Rights Reserved ©
a 30-day journey of hopeless romanticism, expressed in poetry.
i wasn't aware that eyes could carry seasons,
but in yoursâ i witnessed spring.
it was fresh and light,
quite improbable to catch.
i reached out in thought, in the hopes to belong,
but maybe i was meant to bloom somewhere.