We heard tale of the gold at the end.
But our roses were thirsty.
We ran full force, eyes on the rainbow.
But our roses were drying.
A distant dream wet our lips.
But our roses were deserted.
We ran until our age slowed us.
Our roses crinkled black.
We dropped so far away from home
with dead roses we never tried to smell.
Passionate like a bear. Stubborn as a ram. Systematic as a rocket scientist.
No comments:
Post a Comment