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
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
4 Comments:
Past the quiet and the mad
Through peace and through war
Beyond the good and the bad
May The Message travel afar...
So simple, but such profound. Cetainly one of your best!
>> She breathed
>>Almost in silent answer
Beautiful!
perfect
the beauty quiet and message
Beautiful post. I only didn't understand the relevance of the picture accompanying it.
Hi, came by your blog through Gulnazs'.
Something about this poem is soul-stirring :)
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