I don't know about you, but occasionally I get the urge to write a poem. Probably only once or twice a year. I usually stick to songs or blogging or writing fiction, but I try not to limit myself. One day I will be a famous author. That would be amazing. Okay, maybe just a published author, I could be very happy with that!
Anyhow, my moment of poetic glory:
It’s not the things you think you want,
it’s not the things you say you need,
it’s not the boy you’re chasing after,
it’s the one who disagreed.
It’s not the house on the hill,
it’s not the fancy foreign car,
it’s the walk along the road
with your best friend under the stars,
it’s not the future you imagined,
it’s not the ideas that make it great,
it’s the little moments and the people
you don’t miss till it’s too late.
Why are we blind
To see what we’ve missed
Till we’re standing there alone
Stuck in our reminiscence
Why is the past always brighter
Though the shadows were certainly there
Why does the future seem more special
Than the presence that we share
Why do we question those around us
Why do we search every face
Looking so hard for something
That will simply fall into place
Appreciates the moments
Ignore the fear and strife
Be happy for these moments
Because these moments are your life.
Love,
Alice
I've gone through all your posts.
ReplyDeleteI guess you can judge that by the sudden increase in your hit count. :)
There's this image of you formed in my mind.
And its good.
But I would like to read more before I paint a picture.
Claps for the poem. Loved it.