Days28/1
sometimes.
sitting by the fire place,
drying out
of rainy days.
sometimes.
pondering if poems hide,
aghast emotions
a hermit's outcry.
sometimes.
reading in the midst of silence,
page by page of
promised hope.
sometimes.
walking on a straightened path,
taking in the present,
a gift.
sometimes.
turning around,
just for a glimpse to look away
of flitting shadows past.
sometimes.
stringing words of rhyme,
moulding needs
to pretty lines.
sometimes. needing just the comfort of,
undying love
and love inspite.
-
(from amandas yina lishian's
blog)
The wind blew your letter out of my hands
Before i read the part where you said 'hello' again.sad eh?
tsesin 
spoke at : 10:35 AM