Nata Montana

Eres

YRUZ

COMO ESTRELLA

“Do we need a plan?” you asked.
“Nah,” I said. “We’re good at past.”
Tima dropped a sock, then grinned,
And tried to race the wind at last.
You packed some wipes and half a pear,
I found crumbs in her teddy bear.
We slipped out slow, the rain just kissed —
Our front gate squeaked like it was missed.

Sidewalk waltz, one-two-three,
Steps in time and spilled-out tea.
Boots on beat and wheels that roll,
This little walk has made us whole.
We don’t dance like ballrooms do —
But love still sways in two-three-two.

“It’s east to town,” you said with pride.
“That’s west,” I grinned. “You’ve always lied.”
“I’d never lie about a map.”
“You called a pub a nature gap.”
Tima clapped as a dog went past,
We waved to Nan’s old friend at last.
The street was singing: bins, bike bells,
And scent of toast from tiny cafés.

Sidewalk waltz, with pram in tow,
Rubbish day and crows in rows.
You quote a poem, I hum a tune,
We stroll beneath the half-hung moon.
No grand parade, just me and you —
Our little band of two-three-two.

We paused beside the window’s light,
“If we had two… would we still fight?”
“Would we ever sleep? Would we survive?”
“We’d still forget the wipes,” I sighed.
“Some days I feel like I disappear.”
I kissed your cheek and said, “You’re here.”
You leaned your head against the glass —
“We walk, we talk — the hard days pass.”

The path was cracked, the sky went gold,
Tima slumped with her biscuit cold.
A leaf stuck spinning in the wheel,
We laughed — it played our evening feel.
You hummed a line, not quite in key,
I tapped the beat with my left knee.
The streetlight blinked, the sparrow dove —
The hill ahead, and home, and love.

Sidewalk waltz, each footstep spun,
Through fog, through rain, through setting sun.
This song we sing with tea-stained grace —
One pram, one pace, one little face.
We don’t need grand halls or cues —
We still move close in two-three-twos.

Eres

Junior H

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