In the wee hours of the night,
when the crickets gather for a midnight hymn,
and the moon skelters by this 2AM clouds.

my thoughts echo deeply into the night.

My mind untraceable,
The skyline faintly visible to sight.

And With well defined senses,
You can nearly smell the flavor of these colored city lights.

The music of nocturnal creatures playing unorganized wild tones,
It’s almost musical to the ears.

I almost can’t tell how much there is to feel in one night.

But I can at least attest to;
The Taste of rooftops past midnight.

It’s not only calming.
You can purely feel your heart and mind touch.

O! I’d let the hyperbole slide by,
But these kind of nights are
Divinely intoxicating.

{-Of Late nights, city life and Rooftops}


Come to me with your wayward ways and I will love you
Come to me with your hard stone curved heart and I will have you

Break my heart again and again and still every piece will still beat for you
It is you I was meant to be with, it is me you will finally love

Show me the door, cast me far away but to your arms I shall return
Show me your darkest self and I will show you your light
Denounce me in front of other and yet it changes nothing
It is you I was meant to be with not another.


Grandparents are like the setting sun,
Wondrous to watch, and Warm to be around at.

Life with them is as relaxing as the evening sky,

My grandma,
Ah! She was as refreshing as the morning dew.
She made me feel like the first light of a breaking Dawn,

Her sweet tongue fed my little mind with fantasies of her life as a girl.

She would look through time and speak to her first love like a ghost.

I remember her and I hate it when the sun sets.

Memory lane is like walking on shattered pieces of my heart.
It pricks me whenever I try to recollect the shards,

I remember her stories and I hate she joined the stars.

I can’t watch the night sky,
not in awe anymore.

But in memory of Her,
each sad day,
I will write about the stars.

Tabitha, My sweet star.
Shimmer and shine with the stars wherever you are.

Dad rarely says it ….but He thinks of you very much


Ever feel the longing to go to a book store and find a corner? Maybe one in the library,
or somewhere with a stranger and talk about the books and authors that moved you?

I often find myself sitting, peacefully, in the corners of your heart, waiting;
wishing we could share a warmer cup of nostalgic moments, together.

°•. My heart longs for an evening with you✨