It masks death with beauty.
Just when it becomes the most beautiful...
That beauty can only last for a day,
Then slowly,
Death comes.
Death turns the landscape into a colorless world.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
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About Me
- Lain
- Sometimes the world seems to be spinning slower. You are waiting, Holding your breath. Watching as time goes by. Wondering what will happen next. Then suddenly something happens. Something that makes your world faster. You are suddenly flying, Soaring. Nothing can touch you.
2 comments:
Thanks for the poem, your sending me autumn.
No problem...
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