Behind the rugged hills,
I stoop,
The red horizon,
Transfigures,
On my face it fills,
A gleam of the scented meadows, Recollections of the bygone,
Life a hoop;
A carousel,
Whilst the acclivity,
Midst the rays,
Divulged an entity,
Now a blithe self.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PuisiThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
