'It subsided like the rain
on a dewy, summer drizzle
we became the puddle of water,
the dark clouds in us collected.
The cold remained after the weary storm, in the chilly mornings,
the fog started appearing
which made me wonder, how morning dew is brewed, is it from the tears of our fallen haven, or is it pure bliss, that became a token?'
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PoetryOur hearts are brave as fire, minds gentle as earth, dreams are fluid as water, and our souls are as free as the wind. (Poetry and Prose) #2 of the end-live-begin trilogy.
