She is the familiarness, the common thread that sews together the patches of my life. Her words astounding in their simpleness of truth. She is the beginning and end combined, and a chewy centre, not over looked. A tiny bead that sparkles with the brilliance of diamonds, though a quartz is all she is. She is the potential of a rose while it's still a bud. The security of day because of the sureness of the night to come. She feeds the seed of hope, that will grow into the tree of independence. She is everything to me , but a mere ghost to you, She is the blood that pumps through my veins and sustains me.
Reason for writing:
This is for my true best friends, Jae and Irit
Birth sign: Pisces
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by S. L. Butterworth.