zaterdag 8 april 2017

Mist

The misty air comes running
over hills and mountains big
through shadows, over water
to keep me out of sight

While knifes slide gentile
melts the snow, so cold
leaves traces, so moving
a memory of golden times.

This peaceful sight
won't you please disturb it
it's all I have left
to find my inner self

I can not cry these tears
they've been frozen for some time
I have lost my way to sunlight
mist keeps it out of sight

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