Floodgates
Unlike the leaves of autumn, that see fit, to fall in only one season, Very unlike the swinging moods of winter, that shift for no reason, Not at all like the hunger of summer, that doesn’t spare even the moon,
Stillwater
Wind glazes the edge, causing ripples on the surface, But soon there is no blemish left on its face, A stone stirs up ripples from its bottom, Soon all that is left, is the stone at the bottom. The first
Goodbye
When the words come to an end, there is no sentence left, When the memories come to an end, there is no thought left, When the feelings come to an end, there is no emotion left, When this love comes