In the garden of his life
Once he thought that he was the master
He could grow his roses ,some red and some white
He could cut his weeds black and blue
Times passed by with no change coming
Then came some nightangles to his groove
Slowly began the adjustments,roses began to dry
Listening to the nightangles he left them to their fate
He knew he was getting it all wrong
He knew one day they would fly leaving him alone
Yet the tunes were so sweet ,he couldn't do more
One day they left him,his heart as dry as his roses
1 comment:
Sweet and Sad poem. You seem to have lost a nice freind. Dont worry dude things will get alright!! Once again,amazing poem.
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