Who are we but strolling players,
Wondering through the long ago?
Joy and sadness, hopes and longingings keep us travelling onward through the laughter and applause of others,
Who view the passing cavalde, leaving echos hovering some far summer, Flouting around a woodland glade.
'Twas but a tale for your amusement,
Likemy small unwrthy ryme.
Gone alas into those realms,
The land... of once apon a time.
View User's Journal
Trashed and Scattered
my writting
 |
