When it comes, it comes with a blow When it goes its a flood

I. 

Walking on dim-lit streets

burnt oil smelling in the air

oily coblestones

Everywhere are people.

Every day is a carnival.

 

I sit and watch the dripping rain for hours under her porch. 

Thinking about love and terror

 

II.

Rain waters the flowers anyway.

Enter the garden through your heart.

There is a way behind these hills. 

A light in your hands 

shines along your chest.

your lips and cheeks

which are always red.

 

III. 

We run in the rain 

We walk in thunder.

Me, you, and Bobby

We hold hands all the way home.

Such a nice memory.

Yorumlar

Bu blogdaki popüler yayınlar

Sözlü İfade

Kalbimi kırdılar Anneciğim

Endişe