Poetry (words)

à la lune et à l’arrière

I took a leaf and pressed it between pages of words I’d written for you. It kept its colours throughout every season, but it never grew brittle under that weight. There were times that my heart would shine in reflection of what had passed. And the leaf still glows, like affirmation,  a mirror of my heart. 

Life is passing, it’s path is ours and I  have no urge to move mountains or even scale their heights. I’ll tread gently and heal any scars I’ve inflicted. What can’t be healed will fade in time, like a leaf pressed in a book of words and the colours of my heart


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