Red house [over the sea]

There was a time when our eyes followed the autumn leaves dancing in circles. A time stretched to the limits, until it sounds like snow hitting the roof of our thoughts. Waiking whispers and old stories. Lazing the skin, flying with the birds. A time of deserts and a red house, lost over the sea. There was a time that does not seem to return. A time with blankets in nowhere. Mixing the warm of blood in the cold of the nigh. A time of a child holding hands with a missing grandfather. A time with many colors, many smells and dreams. There was a time we must keep closer, hard in our heart. A time to come back sometimes, a time to never forget.   

Sem comentários:

Assíduos do shaker


Blog Widget by LinkWithin