Friday, August 17, 2007


Night turning into dawn,
dawn still yet so far.
Memories turning to stones,
stones still yet so tender.

All the dresses turned so old,
rotten is that gold.
Which once shined so bright,
people used to imagine sun at sea shore.

Paths are some lost,
wishes are some bygone.
Searching still in the trash,
looking for the hopes which were mine when i was old.

Wise is the virtue i have dreaded with life,
thinking still of the age when lost was every eye.
Catering to my youth am now immatured,
hoping for a vague recollection of present i lived in.

Leaves have fallen to this ground,
pretending to impose a tree to fool every eye.
Darkness hanging loose by the sky,
try to pretend morning without a hint of shy.