The smoke passed
As an afterthought,
A cold day in Spring.
I wonder when last
He saw his garden…
If he’ll visit, with wings.
The smoke passed
As an afterthought,
A cold day in Spring.
I wonder when last
He saw his garden…
If he’ll visit, with wings.
In the company of friends,
We forget what life amends.
And if it where still the same,
Will we know what remained.