sephreniax2
New member
- Joined
- Nov 7, 2008
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Sometimes this is how I feel....
The silver voice flying higher on,
The freshness, the forest, the voice in pine
Speaks of sadness, longing, somewhere entwined,
Of falling deeper, where sounds do not go,
Vaguely white, and cleanly swept, staying still
In steady wait for leaves, the falling notes,
The piling of noise, rotting underfoot,
Till all is quiet, in the silent haze,
The bitter shuffling of poison oak,
The painted footprints in the muted wind,
The sound of loneliness, soft in my ear.
The silver voice flying higher on,
The freshness, the forest, the voice in pine
Speaks of sadness, longing, somewhere entwined,
Of falling deeper, where sounds do not go,
Vaguely white, and cleanly swept, staying still
In steady wait for leaves, the falling notes,
The piling of noise, rotting underfoot,
Till all is quiet, in the silent haze,
The bitter shuffling of poison oak,
The painted footprints in the muted wind,
The sound of loneliness, soft in my ear.