The Rooftop

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  • Roof

    The Rooftop

    When standing here,
    I feel as though I can touch the sky,
    The stars shine a beautiful silver,
    I have front row seats,
    To the most beautiful show in the world.
    The constellations call and wave to me,
    I ask what it feels like,
    They reply no words can describe it,
    They ask me what it feels like,
    I reply guilt, happiness, and rage.
    They ask me to take a trip with them,
    We drift into a peaceful nothingness called the universe.
    They say this is what it feels like,
    This is our world.
    Then I look below,
    The world is smothered in a mixture of pastels.
    We return to the rooftop,
    This place to enjoy the silence and breeze,
    This place to put the mind at ease,
    My get away from reality rooftop

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Banetat06’s Poems (21)

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