between shooting stars
a book bound with thread
otherwise used to seam the sun
hold true the theories
a book with worn edges
ink faded through
a wisdom studied true
I was made to see
to understand the likelyhood
of something coming true
the odds of red or blue
the chance Id get to meet you
I didnt get to meet my favorite baseball player
I never did get that game on Christmas morning
No comments:
Post a Comment