If I were but a single star,
Sitting within the blackened shroud,
Of the night sky into which you gaze,
And you thought of me.

If I were a solitary line,
A momentary thought as you penned your prose,
The next beautifully crafted poem of love,
With me in mind.

If I were the face you see,
When you close your eyes and dream,
Taken to within the precipice of passion,
A private moment with me.

Well then perhaps it is time,
To dispose of the ‘ifs’
The thought of possibilities,
And replace them with plans as to ‘when’

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


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