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I found myself a quiet word,
Her home was soft and gray.
Her eyes were winter,
her skin was pearl,
She hid from light of day.

She knew docility,
She knew forget,
Her qualities lost their thread.
In quiet memory this quiet word
Could not forsake regret
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Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
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:iconflight-of-life:

Author's Comments

sweet and simple

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:icons14n1fa:
Amazing... That poem is perfect!
:iconflight-of-life:
Thank you.
I try my best :)

--
"But my heart it don't beat. It don't beat the way it used to."

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September 18, 2008
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