Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The Fifth Season
the water crisp and cold seemed as if it could talk.
The secrets of a lifetime, the dreams of yesterday,
the whispers from my heart that shall never fade away.
The grapes have yet to ripen and they wait another day,
the road I have yet to travel gets farther along the way.
The spider on the petals and a insect or two neither
knows their fate when storms come moving through.
The season of love...