***
I was 14 years old:
Searching-
For stars in city lights,
Squinting through the orange glow,
Trading in street lamps for galaxies,
Convincing myself of their sparkle.
I was 17 years old:
Searching-
For soulmates in friends,
Wishing for that one-true-love,
The kind that wraps up your soul,
And ties it with a pretty promise of forever.
I was 21 years old:
Searching,
For equality in the Modern Era,
Hoping that maybe my femininity,
Could be a blessing in disguise.
I was 25 years old:
Searching,
For intelligence in knowledge,
Clinging to the chance that the world,
Would see its self-destruction and change.
I was 30 years old:
Searching:
For happiness in complacency,
Clawing at the shadow of the passionate curiosity,
That I had as a child.
I was 40 years old:
Searching:
For myself in my children,
Praying that their innocent dreams,
Aren't stolen away too quickly, like mine were.
"You'll be searching for a lifetime, honey!"
"Mama, but If I look hard enough-"
"Let's go inside sweetheart, maybe the stars will be out tomorrow."
***
YOU ARE READING
The Lines We Write ✔
Poetry❝Dreamer is too pretty of a word: A breath of wistful naivety, Masquerading as the oxygen of hope in our lungs. It reads as a fantastical tale of serendipity, In the novel, Life- Written in our name.❞ Highest ranking: #58 in poetry
