“When summer passes, and you ask, ‘What mattered most?’ I will say,

Sweet basil on tomatoes plucked fresh off the vine. Roses, scented heavy with perfume, fairy children chasing fireflies at dusk, each whispered story a tapestry of wonder and joy. The constant presence of the stars at night and you.”

“Me?”

“You. My North Star.”

~Tangled Moments

Published by

Anna G. Watson

~ write like a painter

2 thoughts on “”

Comments are closed.