Somethings are better not known. Somethings are beyter not shown, left unsaid and vaulted forever.
Some answers are impossible to find. Some are rare like angel dust.
On this rainy night, I ask myself, is this when dreams become a reality? When finally, my dear friend would be right, and me gladly mistaken?
The answer I know not, and only time will tell where this uncharyed path will take me.
Come. Spirit me away. And when the storms fade, let me find solace in your sweet lullaby.
No comments:
Post a Comment