You're an angel that nobody can see,
Still, an angel is what you are to me.
The flashbacks keep coming
Like a train that never stops running
Somethings have to be forgotten
And others just remain regrettable
February the 1st.
There's a story told of a wizard
Who, for money, would cast a spell,
He calls to me across the miles
Night winds carry his whispers
They float on the breeze and through my windows
Falling gently upon my ears
Hey everybody.. My name is Symone and I am almost 17 years old.
I was born in a little town outside Copenhagen, Denmark, where I have lived my whole life. Denmark is actually great, with the weather and stuff. When it's winter it's cold but when you are tired of the winter spring is coming and that's almost always hot..
My interest for poem ...