Is it the mist, that takes out the view? ? ?
Is it the war, that makes me impaired? ? ?
Is it the wind, that pushes me down? ? ?
Is it the snow, that brings in the cold? ? ?
...
The journey starts,
With the new faces around,
Things to be looked at,
Its a lime in and out,
...
The dark deep woods stare at her arrival,
With the feathers on,
A careful watch!
...
Its the shell that rings,
Which plays with the sand,
A lady towards the sea!
...
Your Leave
Is it the mist, that takes out the view? ? ?
Is it the war, that makes me impaired? ? ?
Is it the wind, that pushes me down? ? ?
Is it the snow, that brings in the cold? ? ?
Is it the spice, that touches my tongue? ? ?
Is it the river, that drowns me in? ? ?
Is it the vacuum, that sucks me hard? ? ?
Is it your leave, that breaks my soul? ? ?