the roots of a poem.

you are to my poetry like the stars
are to infinity. the verses that blossom
in my heart take flight on westerly winds;
do you heed them when the jasmine
scented breeze carries them to your end?
or do you still opt to spot satellites in the
night sky, dubbing them as fledgling stars
and shooting stars that carry y/our wishes?

swirling in your multiverse is the way home.
the unsaid swirls into poems as sodium
lamp posts light the path –

you are my favourite poem.