i know the end will be happy. it's just the waiting part that's killing me. But i gotta do my part. My back will never turn. April is "poetry month". or so says the internet. so i will make a poem.
the burning oak, the scented smoke. the cricket's chirp, the frogs croak. sitting on the back porch, the greatest view was her of course. talking, watching day give way so the owls and the shadows could come out to play. The sun gave a fond farewell, we smoked a cigarette, night fell... into the river, into the river i watched the moon rise in her eyes upon the river. There's a word for it ( love) but it's not good enough for her, its a feeling, a mind reeling, a butterfly with colors so appealing my heart jumps from my chest and bursts through the ceiling and crashes down wrapped in a bow. with a letter attached so you will know. i will wait, i won't wither, for something stronger than a word will keep us together. the sun will rise onto the river, onto the river. i watched a new start, from the light in her heart upon the river.
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