the play ends
Melted dreams, fade way wishes, ended scenes of our dear kisses.
Memories mushed upon the ground, my love is lost where can it be found?
Accented closers still in repose, my heart beats yes but my brain opposed.
Your once welcomed presents now highly restricted.
manifest the day that we were gifted.
The orchestra rises a solemn tune the echos of you eminent doom.
CasimirJash commented on the play ends
08-25-2009
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
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| Title | Comments | Submitted |
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| i wish to kiss you | 1 | 05/19/2009 |
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