PERHAPS, A POEM
Perhaps the wind will turn today,
or perhaps it will drifts elsewhere,
keeping the echoes of what we never said
if quiet were not already there...
Perhaps the rain will choose to fall,
or perhaps it will hold its tears,
leaving the streets unkissed and all
our waiting hearts postpone in years.
Perhaps I saw your smile at sunrise,
or perhaps the night was weaving deceptions;
perhaps what is gone still lingers
and perhaps we gather more than we notice.
Perhaps, my words are not enough,
yet still I write, in quiet prose...
for perhaps a poem is just this:
a maybe that nobody knows.
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