Cold in the air – breaths of gloom
Fond of dank, wretched pleasure,
For tears make flowers bloom
And Heart made the feeling treasure.
Affection did his form largely retain
Through the withering pace of time,
To see that visage of joy again
In scent of spring or torrid clime.
While the golden dawning rays
Caress our tranquil cheeks,
We'll always talk our winter days;
Surreal cloth, but which creativity speaks.
Warmth in the air – breaths of spring
Light and clear the night is closing,
Mellow singing struck the heartstring
Interring Reminiscence eternally, or to mere reposing.
No comments:
Post a Comment