a purple breeze
Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page. They fade into emptiness another dark, gray day. Dreams are the only memory of the plans have back then. Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen. -Anonymous
Monday, August 28, 2006
Monday, August 14, 2006
Castles of Sand
What do sea shells mean
to one who has never seen the beach
never seen
white froth
and happiness swelling till it bursts
What do children mean
to one who can't have any
Why do you
turn on the fan
right after building a palace
painfully
with your deck of cards
Why does the night seem endless
Why is warmth
absent
when you need it
Why is there
no silence
just when you need it
Why do we
continue living
in our castles
of sand.