Down falls the gray,
come down down and play,
i love to sit next you,
on your happy holiday.
I look above,
from joined hands and finding birds,
till infinite favorites my mouth will notice,
i applaud with hymn,
In between the line of shade and drizzling rain,
covered and uncovered,
the half of me has gone different.
As a blossom
winds across this spring,
take me away
into the blurs of a mist,
Our fingertips trail along, as a dove
glides of guiding wings,
appearing to our faces, of
love singing smiles.
It’s not me, it’s not
Who I am…
Who traces every spit, that flies across rooms
And learn from
Let his hands be a remedy, From
the creation in this divine world,
Of which our father
Descriptions of such rebuking yells and ringing sounds,
from behind the walls of difficult pounds,
the gray hues of lifeless skies,
to fallen tears as wrecking bys.