Seven Years With You
We spent days of two thousand fifty five
Like noisy buzzers of poorly formed beehive
You built me a storm out of the star’s light
When I was asleep after our everyday fight
I heard you in my dreams,still trying to thrive
Perhaps, it’s you who make the last fifty five
After the two thousand days that we survive
We died too,again and again on our sullen arms
Where we are born again too
We pinch and pick, as our souls too naive
To keep us from dying again or being alive
I do not know how seven years were right
But on the two thousand fifty sixth night
We realized It is only us that we deprive
If we are not born again
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
