The trains streak by as fast as light
And we sit on the bench wordlessly, watching
In a grayscale world
Where rain pours on
And were the only color in sight
In the middle of the pitch black night
And when morning comes
People wait around outside
Umbrellas up
And kisses in the rain
Are all a game
Like Double Dutch, and skip, and hop and such
The rain clung to your hair, astray
All of the night and the day
We were walking home
And it is quite a pity
That the moon was crescent in the sky
But it was still pretty
In its non-existent, dreamlike way
But daydreams are better than real life anyway















Comments
and your friend, of course
--
We write for a reason.
Or none at all.
It doesn't matter.
great concept and flow
~pd
--
We write for a reason.
Or none at all.
It doesn't matter.
Thanks
I am in a weird, weird, WEIRD mood. I feel like a French slasher clone turned into a chicken.
--
Flowers are pretty and demented; just like me!
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