a leaf trembles.
And when spring blooms again, the trees begin anew.
he sat in front of his window, cried, raged, and painted.
the light on what is dead and at peace.
this cold stone marks your vibrant and beautiful life.
my breath comes out like mist, disappearing before my fingers.
my memories flee my grasp.
the seasons will come and go. the question is whether to accept it peacefully or not accept it at all.
we grieve the death of our youth.
the spark of magicfizzled out with summer breezeinto stagnant leaves