Little saint
I thought we chose your name
It turns out you had chosen your name
You spoke in a soft whisper to us nudging us to make our decision
Of all the names we liked and considered
It’s clear your name was meant for you
Little saint
That’s exactly what you are to so many
You exhibit love, happiness
You remind others there is light in darkness
Little Saint
Whoever you grow up to be
I know it’s someone filled with love and light
About the Creator
Anne
blogger, content creator and mama
find me on socials: @paranneting @anamesa_anne
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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