All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;but a hidden star can still be smiling at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling
I'm falling apart, one part after another. Falling down on the world like snow. Half of me is already on the ground, watching from below.
(p. pr. & vb. n.) of Rhyme
Let all the green leaves be mineas long as the trees define shades created by their limbsfor the soil made with victimsof atrocity's vileness to redeem the fragileness
I wonder at the starry pattern in the skyAre they little pieces of moon which want to fly..?
First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.
A good poem has rhyming but no ending, it continues to rhyme in our heart.