walking down the street no were.
A long a road that Leeds to nothing. Up a path
That has no meaning and in to the light that time will tell.
People come and go everyday and the past is created
Every second.
Like a street like a road we choose the path we take.
Like a map that paints our way
the colours forming day by day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a good write. 'the colors forming day by day'.. ok thats anouther way to see it :) and its fine by me.