by Ingrid Prohaska
On my walk through the alleys of graves
I lose the feeling of time
Present, past and future meet each other
shaking hands
being friends
a flower
a candle light
a peaceful time
a smile
a soul
an eternal life-time
and a bird is singing its melody
without caring about what will be
Copyright © 2011 Ingrid Prohaska
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I love the last two lines. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much, Madeline.
ReplyDeletebeautiful-ace
ReplyDeleteMany thanks!
ReplyDelete