tell me


tell me of all the times we played in the sun
of the times we washed our hands in the river
how many times did I push down to the water?
how old were we then?

do you miss me?
wherever you are, do you miss me?
Sometimes the flowers that bloom forever
are the ones we cherish the less.

Because under the false mask of melancholy
we dance under the moon to shelter our youth
and later forget, we were once human.

No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario