Strange was the shining As it drifted in air, whining
Disturingly elegant was its motion.
The translucency defined, darkness in profusion.
Under the lush pine tree,
Its unseeing eyes, trying to see.
Through the looking glass of the window,
Reliving the lost memories of happiness and sorrow.
Saddened, it turned around.
Drifted away, never to be found.
A whiff of cold air passed into the dark hole.
Pitiful, indeed he was, the ever wandering Lost Soul.
1 comment:
Awsm!
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