Heaven has been imagined,
Plush, white, clear,
With eternal brightness.
In my head, it is instead
So much of the 32 year
history that tug o' wars
between us.
The greatest music I will ever know
is the wind as it whips at your jacket..
Taking my breath and ruffling
your hair simultaneously.
The sound of your tires on gravel.
What we have... lies tight in the
spill of porch lights.
Where somewhere
in the distance ,
A Jr. High band is practicing,
and grown men still call their Fathers daddy...
And fireflies, born into flight,
pitch themselves against
The night like
exploding stars.
Skull
Awesome write! Great from beginning to end but those last 4 lines I wish were mine lol brilliant!
Soundofsilence
@Skull I too am a word coveter! That's the best compliment you could have paid me! Thank you so much.
Fauxhero
There's so much here.
"What we have... lies tight in the
spill of porch lights." Is a beautiful line!
This puts a small town in my mind, or at very least, something that was once everything... so good that just the fragments are enough.
Mamba
Stunning.
Soundofsilence
@Fauxhero It was a small town romance that was never forgotten. #nonfiction Love that you grasped this. Thank you to the moon and back!
Soundofsilence
@Mamba I appreciate this, thank you for reading.
James
Classic and
James
Fantastic
BMuise
I loved this!