Roses look pretty when they
are in hands of people who smile,
else when they are not plucked.
Awake all night on knees.... gave away those doors and keys... walking with winter blues.... Left home with a pair of jeans....Hands searching for warmth in cold.... mingled with dreams inside.... empty pockets and empty she... with the chilly wind besides... the puppet walks away tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment