the world fades into a quiet grey
where whispers of the past still play
a solitary swing, a silent tree
held in the arms of mist and memory..
the world fades into a quiet grey
where whispers of the past still play
a solitary swing, a silent tree
held in the arms of mist and memory..
don't make me cry
past always is a full of guilt or sadness
Past is gone, focus on the present.
yep. message was in alignment with your poetry
Thank you Sir 😊