I guess we're growing older,
now our hair is turning white.
Brushing days off our shoulders.
watching sunsets side by side.
You wore my laugh as jewelry,
touched the bottom of my soul
and yet my heart still flutters
when I feel the credits roll.
Your hands are brittle
mine are too.
I might shatter easily.
Doesn't mean that you do too.
I admire your strength,
your capability.
It has held me steady
in fear of senility.
Now that we are sitting here,
the last sunset's rolling by.
I have one thing to say to you, my dear.
"Let's be young again in this last July!"
YOU ARE READING
Värvitud sinised linnud
PoetryVärvitud sinised linnud on kurvad. Nad ei nuta, vaid raputavad tiibasid ja pritsivad värvi. Kogumik luuletustest nii inglise kui ka eesti keeles. / The colored blue birds are sad. They will not cry, but shake their feathers and spray paint. This is...
