In a wilted world of tangled clouds,
of swollen dandelions and crimson wildflowers,
of demons and dragons and crocodile tears,
I would search for you.
In tenured chapels near rolling hills,
in burning chapters still unread,
when lips were locked
and souls unfed,
I would still search for you.
I’d search for clues in every word,
in every syllable the wayward stars had overheard
in every prayer when you missed me too,
if only I had searched for you.
© Connie Song 2025. All Rights Reserved.
