• almaarchisman 5w

    She wasn’t a daffodil,
    But a dandelion,
    Roaring from her place,
    To swim in the depth of the sky,
    Her flaws sparkling through her crevices,
    Freckles danced on her anger,
    Her audacity gave seizures,
    To the looking eyes,
    Till he held her like a cotton,
    She fought and thumped to his patience,
    Walked away and stormed in,
    He gave her zephyr to fly high,
    When she came down,he held her,
    ‘Why?’ she asked,
    ‘Its you.’ all he said.

    ©almaarchisman