The Island


I'm always finding new people,
New people,
Sometimes the moments I share feel like pockets.
A pocket I never find again,
Yet never leave my mind.
Sometimes they stay for a little while,
Showing me new things I could never have discovered on my own.
At moments I wish they could have stayed longer,
See what other adventures they could take me on.
But what I learned was that when someone isn't meant to stay,
To keep them is like fine sand in the palm of your hand,
slipping through the cracks of your fingers no matter how hard you squeeze.
Taking your soul with it.
Posted by Feaven
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