I've watched him from afar
Head buried in books,
A million worlds away.
I sit, ink-stained fingers
Scribbling him in mine-
If only I can reach him
See through these dusty pages
Dwell in my throbbing words,
Own this makeshift world-ours.
Yet, I am but a phantom
Fragments of a love
Drifting his illusive path
A lost wanderer
Of his broken hourglass;
Timeless.
YOU ARE READING
Summer Sands
PoetrySummer The days are longer The night skies Draped in stars, Shimmering pearls in the ocean; While the seagulls soar Above the ever, turning tides.
