Just as crocodile tears fall in unusal ways someday a true rain will wash all this away. In the blue reflections of each tin angel will be a deep memory of you and a crystal thought of me. Perhaps the rain will fall like the curtain of a show upon the back of an actor who simply didn't know. Maybe it will move slow like a shadow descends a hall leaving the drenched and the wet time to think of it all. And we hope with our hearts that the clouds won't cry but the storm grows heavy as the years pass us by. And the raindrops start crashing without making a sound to kiss seeds that we frantically plant in the ground. Even the last angry man can't outrun the true rain, but a life short regrets may ease his pain.
Reason for writing:
Its about death.
Comments welcome.
Birth sign: Not entered
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