Time.
Poetry about loving someone through the years
I have to say, I always imagined
How things would be in a few years
Depends how long it’ll take for you
To remember me again
Maybe in 10, 20 or 30 years from now
We’d meet again when we’re older
Few wrinkles bore on our faces
A little grey strand of hair sticking out
Glasses permanently etched on top of our noses
Rings on our left fingers, promised to our beloved ones
Eyes full of adventures and memories
Maybe then, in that moment
You’d realize how much you’ve missed me
Because you cared so little about time
While I waited for so long
To see you again.
Because, my darling, time is precious.
About the Creator
Isabella Renteria
"Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." - Plutarch
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Sunlight danced softly across the frost-crusted fields, making the little blades of grass sparkle like emeralds. The faraway chirrup of a songbird was the only disruption to the quiet of the morning. An icy chill, the last vestige of the dying winter, clung to the air, settling in a thick white mist at the far side of the open field. The heavy stench of decay hung in that mist, punctuation by the sharp tang of freshly spilled blood.
By A. J. Schoenfeld7 days ago in Fiction
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