Some sleeping willows, in some place with no time, have stopped asking questions to the deep and silent night. And now, instead, they roam and in they wanderings they ponder and reckon...Now, they collect and feed on the dreams left behind by some oblivious passer by.
So when the tints of blue begin to fall and filter through the stars and when the murky mist begins to rise, these sleeping willows covered in silver and white, they come to my window to whisper me lullabies...
Friday, 31 October 2008
Well... if you're not here when I wake up, would you please take the kite... I would't know what to do with it otherwise
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