the perpetually confused stalker
listens
through vases
somewhere outside
the door
of an astronomy class
and hopes
to cut moonbeams and stick them in a vase and call them love..
makes
silly attempts to forge his mother’s signature
so as to finally be allowed
to take
the class where students learn how to dance with moonbeams
watches
others pass…
while he
flunks
both love and
astronomy
every
single
time
~Love does not demand its own way~
Awesome poetry!
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Thanks so much 🙂
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You are most welcome! 🙂
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🙂
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