All the pretty things die.
But where do they go,
when they die?
All the creatures, to the flowers and the stars in the sky?
Where do they hide?
Do they hide in secret places?
Do they hide in the shadows?
Or where the sun does shine?
Do you think they hide in the Meadows?
Or in the air that we breathe?
Or where the oxygen does not reach?
Nobody knows.
Where the pretty things go
After they die.
Only God knows where his creatures hide.
His pretty creatures in the Earth,
Where the shadows roam and where the sun shines.
YOU ARE READING
Serendipity
Poetry"Years of love have been forgot in the hatred of a moment" Edgar Allan Poe 《Kyrasif made the graphic cover 》
