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darling, take me back
to the dreamy hallways
of that cosy little town
that were always lit with
hanging flourescent lights
in the shady evenings
and had sweet people
sitting by round tables
whispering the dreams
that coloured their lives
like soft strokes of paint
that takes way too long
to dry up 'n' make sense
but, nonetheless, darling
they had smiles all over
their oh so radiant faces
for no matter how much
such dreams bring pain
they are still like 'roses'
that remain beautiful
even when so withered
among the closed pages
of an old forgotten book
Author's Note
Dreams are like roses that look pretty even when withered among the closed pages of an old forgotten book. :')
Have you noticed that both dreams and roses look pretty, can be kept among the closed pages of an old forgotten book and always wither away? :')❤
I don't think that I've to explain any further. How did you find this poem? *-*
Much love,
Hazel ^-^
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Nostalgia | ✔
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