Imitate the silence within me.
Be it the falling of autumn leaves.
The impressions on the snow I see
Or dreams that saints may weave.
Be the fragrance of the velvet mirth.
Be a stolen stone from the earth.
A shade of darkness and so it be
The silence that is left in me.
For him who flew the nest - picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/375909900137897297/ You don’t know what it feels like to have a home, but know you cannot return… It is eas...
18 hours ago