Crossing Over

By Simran

Love love love, the word poets

carry in their pockets, under their

tongues and on the papers.

Have you looked into their

eyes, longing for such majestic power?

Where you climb mountains, swim

in the oceans, fetch the stars

and still blissful under one name.

Have you ever asked them, which

will be older, their hearts or the planets;

only if they weren't afraid.

Polishing dreams on the ceiling

dreaming shoes on strange roads,

hoping we'll be crossing over

again, here i am, another poet.

Undone, under a roof.

By Simran