It seems to me that the sun
feels a tinge of sadness.
For the lovers who endured
its harshness
on their outings,
have parted.

Neither of them can bears
to walk alone and lost.
The poetry has melted,
And this wasn’t
For a lack of meaning.
Rather, amazment has cooled,
and the earth vast
still !
And we must move on ..

The world could not bear
our enchantment together.
Because of the many crocodiles
in the river. Perhaps the writer
will continue to give us chances..
The rich clay has the right
to live the authentic love,
for love, as I understand,
is the intent of us,
our eternal delimma and
the ultimate passage.
Our confusion seems
to please Him.
We are entertaining
not as humans,
but as us
the girl
and the hollow statue,
the charming statue which wind
directs his wave.
And who is somehow
belonging to the moon.

Perhaps we should worry,
there is no night nearby
No night to rest
your head upon.
The clouds are dense
and obscure.
The world might also
devour the night,
as the trees are being cut,
and no suitable place
to create a BREEZE