A can of colours, hardly costs as much
As a fine spray of hairs, gently bathed in sunlight
And your shadow.
Nor; can a dozen crystal vases,
Outdo the dazzle of diaphanous dust
Lightly drifting from paint-weary hands.
It is easy to buy memories, they sell them cheap
In stores out of town- manufactured
By machines that groan like abattoirs.
The cracks are remorse- they speak,
Of the ravages of time, an abstract
We all race to posess. Whilst You
And me. Stand in the mocking loneliness
Of a few crates on slate.
Remembering what they once were.
(wk, know its on your note.haha. but you very nice right, hope you don't mind. (:)
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3 comments:
hm.. so that's what those words ar.. your handwriting a bit the hard to read only.. haha.. =P
hey! stop birding la! hao xin mei hao bao, pple write nice cheem stuff for you leh. haha.
okok~~ thanks a lot la.. wahaha.. =D.. you very nice la..
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