The story for everyone
Starts much the same,
It blossoms with passing
Like bodies unlaid.
Further along,
It develops and expands,
The life, or cup
Is filled by empty demands.
When a purpose is found
And the night begins,
Happiness can be unburied
And death wins.
After all is gone,
But it's only one more,
Then sorrow comes
As beating waves on end's shore.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy and Prose
PoesíaContaining songs, dreams, poems, and prose, this is a collection of my inner-most ramblings. When I need to unwind, I write.
