Fringe lines.
There was a solemn friend who made a solemn promise to me,"We shall sit on that branch,swing the breeze and make our homes where our feet are never ever touch the solid..well,except the clouds."
Those murky memories that await their day of escaping a halogen light that makes you look for a picture.Walking with a stone in hand with hope to see ripples on a pond that lived by itself.
To find one lie laying on a park bench in its soft coldness. To sit and wonder about a tree that once had boughs to borrow a lean on. To find the day gone with a yellow goodbye..kissed by that veiled man.
Silently washing the dew off a leaf and looking at the red moon. I wash off water that fell from the very clouds that we promised to land on.
I stand amongst those swept leaves covered by the wept sediments of one long lost memory.
Those murky memories that await their day of escaping a halogen light that makes you look for a picture.Walking with a stone in hand with hope to see ripples on a pond that lived by itself.
To find one lie laying on a park bench in its soft coldness. To sit and wonder about a tree that once had boughs to borrow a lean on. To find the day gone with a yellow goodbye..kissed by that veiled man.
Silently washing the dew off a leaf and looking at the red moon. I wash off water that fell from the very clouds that we promised to land on.
I stand amongst those swept leaves covered by the wept sediments of one long lost memory.
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