The wind that blows,
I wish it carried my thoughts,
I wish it carried my memories too.
But after the rain falls,
Its sound echoes,
As if all the memories taken by the wind
Are now pounded into the earth.
Perhaps my words are poetic,
But sometimes I feel the wounds of people
Are healed in the drops of rain, falling to the ground.
And when the earth emits the scent of soil,
It gives off the scent of people's sorrows.
Maybe because we are made of soil,
When the rain falls, it brings the scent of earth.
YOU ARE READING
Our bubble on the sea
Spiritualour life is like bubble with different layer, we can share our layer with others, but the main layer is only us. the real person who live in us. this is the story of me or better internal me. I am not native speaker in English. so sorry for my gra...
