Reid@YWP

i wonder if this is the best version 

of myself. what could have been 

and what never will be. the things 

meant to be and the things that

are. was it worth it? 

if life is but a dream for the dead

may you visit us during autumn, the eldest of the seasons

letting your fragile bones be exposed to the crisp air of october

letting your fingertips run over the bars of the cemetery gates

We reach for the sunlight,

as it

leaves us shadows

of the mountains

in the meadows. 

We look for 

the milkweed,

Star in the sky

My star in the sky

You do not exist anymore except in my heart

You were once a seed in my womb

Growing growing gone

My star in the sky or are you the moon or a planet far far away

Let me introduce you to my dreams, they said.
A dream I will make come true, it seems.
At eight years old, under twinkling beams,
I dreamt of being a poet, fueled by gleams.