A garden of roses
Like a river running
Through the mountains
Is the musty smell
Of the deep woods
That runs through
That special place
In neverland
Where our dreams
Come true....
And I walk into that river
With my eyes wide open
And let myself drawn
To the bottom
And the smell of the night
Is now gone...
I close my eyes, now dead
And rest calmly
In the deepest corner
Of the night.
Bilingual Blog about poetry, short stories and some random pondering about life, culture and love as I understand it.
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The Cycle
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