Thursday, February 17, 2005
I see your faces
through the rain,
dimensions yet unformed.
A tear blurred mist
among the grass
where toilers often mourned.
Through distant paths
mixed with the mud,
ancient yet never crossed.
Your form it flutters
in the breeze.
Your name is all but lost.
through the rain,
dimensions yet unformed.
A tear blurred mist
among the grass
where toilers often mourned.
Through distant paths
mixed with the mud,
ancient yet never crossed.
Your form it flutters
in the breeze.
Your name is all but lost.