our field
I sit and starebut
Never would I walk across the field,
Or else I stain my dream with footsteps of reality.
Telling where my dreams have been and lost amongst the trampling feet.
The grass would grow though,
cover where they would once have been,
But the memory remains.
There was once someone in my dreams,
That walked away.
Poetry by stef lai
Read 766 times
Written on 2009-04-05 at 22:36
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