25.2.13

wind

I remember
when I was younger
hearing my parents fight
about everything
or nothing
at all

I remember my little slide
and the pink flute
I once hit my brother with

I remember the rabbits
and the chickens
and the colours of a rainbow
I wanted to reach

Above it all
I remember the innocence
I carried
that we all did
In our smiles and laughs
and bruises and scars
and screams of joy

I try not to forget
I beg the wind not to take it away
for the memories not to fade

But maybe
they already
did

and this is nothing but an illusion
of a dead girl's
past

2 comentários:

  1. adoro completamente tudo o que escreves !
    a serio tens imenso jeito .

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