28/10/2009

On a winter's day

this old winter is like a memory
inside a velvet mind
a poet's sun-burned love
and a laughter beyond time

and beneath our skins and dreams
we bleed our stars to dry
for everything ends within ourselves
without us asking why

our endless winter days
are like frozen blossoms of the moon
floating in between our desires
and fading just too soon

(with many thanks to Gillian)

© Ngoc-Phuong Tran/ Lir

[link] /fallingleaf.de
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