| Sunday, May 24, 2009 |
| A sea that died................ |
In the evening of a late day,
Was a thought about a dear May,
When the rain was weak,
But the air was meek,
It was a blue day then,
The roses blush in lament,
In a color they forge to bleed,
There's scent there's air everywhere,
Yet there's no one to bare.
It's strange Somethings just come and go,
They say it's life, but who should know?
Everything's transient, ephemeral, soft and cold,
Just takes a while for what's there to go.
A dull mist persists to stay,
It's gentle and painful today,
Yet it shall forever stay,
And remind me of a certain day. |
posted by bereaved vendetta @ 7:06 AM  |
|
|
|
|
| A strange medley of what I can give the world of my greatest possession, creative writing. |
| About Me |
|
Name: bereaved vendetta
About Me: Optically, subjectively, and figuratively: EQUIVALENT Focal plane....
See my complete profile
|
| Previous Post |
|
| Archives |
|
Powered by |
 |
|
