He is…

He’s a living genius,

I’m a walking disaster.

He’s the brightest star in a nightshade of grey,

I’m the ray of sunshine in a windowpane.

He’s the bulky tree in the forest,

I’m the moss in a nourished foliage.

He’s the lamp post in a crowded place,

I’m the cricket in an unnoticed space.

He’s an artist in a real stage,

I’m a crippled model in a rampage.

He’s the frequently asked book,

I’m that pocketbook seldom borrowed.

He’s the waves kissing the shore,

I’m the shore asking for more.

He’s a dauntless poet,

I’m a factionless poetess.

He is,

He is,

He is,

My Ed Sheeran…

In my own little Disneyland.



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