Wednesday, January 10, 2007
In this instant,
Of this bit of insignificant loneliness,
Thoughts wander like geese amongst flowerpots;
Trampling the blooms, crushing the newly formed buds.
It’s unsafe to wonder,
It’s dangerous to hope,
To place your heart in a glass box
With no strings attached.
In the end,
Shards are all that’s left to collect,
Debri of a joyless dream.
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they say, " I think it's a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is."
perhaps it is then,
would it be hello like before again?
un moment à se rappeler
. a moment to remember.
