Image Credit: Google.com
Last time’s fastened breath still in head,
Spring breeze freezes, listening,
The imagery from this garden,
Turns greener and clearer,
As if I’m seven years old,
Being forgiven for running cross the woods,
Plucking someone else’s wild berries…
Spring breeze freezes, listening,
The imagery from this garden,
Turns greener and clearer,
As if I’m seven years old,
Being forgiven for running cross the woods,
Plucking someone else’s wild berries…