Hidden between blades of grass, next to a pebble and broken glass, under a dry crumpled brown leaf, a thought, an idea who's time has come. Life is stolen by time like a thief. Look close and listen, you are here now with the birds
singing in the trees to the sun in the East.
1 comment:
It has been many moons since you have posted a blog and I think you should write some more poetry or witty remarks soon, por favor!
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