The rain no longer pours,
it cascades,
cleansing my soul.
The sun doesn’t just shine anymore,
it radiates.
illuminating the darkness I once feared.
The world is filled with magic,
if you’re willing to look closely.
What you call weeds, I call wishes waiting to be made.
Colors are bright and the wind sings.
So much I never saw,
and that I never cared to hear.
So much that I’m ready to experience, to feel.
Not just what I feel for you,
but a love for myself I never knew before.
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“What you call weeds, I call wishes waiting to be made” Great line. A good read.
Thank you!
I like your optimistic view on the world. Nice poem.