Posted On // Leave a Comment

In tasteless cold night,
The cover of stars in sight.
I wipe the moonlit dish,
Of the single neglected wish.

Again morning I wake,
With aplenty promises fake.
Today we'll cook things new,
Today I'll watch dreams a few.

Why is the distance sublime,
When it's still thin a line?
Failing when you're a dot,
Smiling with space naught.

0 thoughts:

Post a Comment