As the quiet atmosphere
soars through the air,The golden sunset plays
a beautiful rhythm.Two lonely souls
are watching the lovely show,And they are ready for the sight
of the sweetest ending.Leaves are dancing
through the afternoon air,And his smile were as clear
as the northern lights.She sees how he sprinkle stars,
and she adored them tooAs though her words are not enough
to describe one.
YOU ARE READING
| march and phantom.
PoetryHe is the corpse of my existential avenue, creeping towards a clandestine affair.