04-02-2016, 01:15 PM
The first snow is falling and the quiet music of childhood rises to the sky
I think of first things that can’t be repeated of incidents pure as spring water that are already behind me
I try to remember their lushness taste and smell the first snow is falling
I stand in the window
I feel old
I think of first things that can’t be repeated of incidents pure as spring water that are already behind me
I try to remember their lushness taste and smell the first snow is falling
I stand in the window
I feel old