Maybe some songs,some friendships aren't meant to be understood completely.Maybe all one can do is grow into them.
Burst into the full bloom of life,sitting under a Eucalyptus tree,comfortable in deep silence,so sun kissed the few words that did tumble out,ever so naturally.
The leaves being raked ,a scattered constellation being wiped to a clean slate,like a night fading.
The petrichor smell and the cool breath of the Earth,so breezy.
Scattered and blown are white,furry seeds,like the magic of one's first snowfall.Demanding to be looked at,to be inspire awe.
And here in this corner dwells my childhood,and there in that backyard jungle live my daydreams.
Nestled in these lanes we walk,and the flowers that bloom only at springtime,cherry-blossom like,is a story of how we grew up.and where.and how.and all a reminiscent flash of nostalgia.
All one can do,perhaps,is hold on to the undying glory of feeling,savour it till the last crumbs,like plum cake.
Burst into the full bloom of life,sitting under a Eucalyptus tree,comfortable in deep silence,so sun kissed the few words that did tumble out,ever so naturally.
The leaves being raked ,a scattered constellation being wiped to a clean slate,like a night fading.
The petrichor smell and the cool breath of the Earth,so breezy.
Scattered and blown are white,furry seeds,like the magic of one's first snowfall.Demanding to be looked at,to be inspire awe.
And here in this corner dwells my childhood,and there in that backyard jungle live my daydreams.
Nestled in these lanes we walk,and the flowers that bloom only at springtime,cherry-blossom like,is a story of how we grew up.and where.and how.and all a reminiscent flash of nostalgia.
All one can do,perhaps,is hold on to the undying glory of feeling,savour it till the last crumbs,like plum cake.
