Echo

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We will look from the terrace far city,

while the sea is the dance floor of heaven,

where the last rays of sun dance a slow.

You can hear the distant echo of a concert.

A lamppost only lights the path,

of a soft light reminiscent of a sunset.

Our steps will leave footprints in the snow,

leaving room for a flowering meadow.

ᴘᴇᴛʀɪᴄʜᴏʀ:ᴘᴏᴇᴍs ᴀɴᴅ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏsWhere stories live. Discover now