Smoke rises like clouds
Ripe leaves, dark as the night sky
Ashes fall like rain

things go missing,
lost somewhere between
then and now.
and the rest is history,
and all that you can do is try
to outrun the rising tide.
oh, to be carried away,
to be buried in your own garden.
if you cling to the things
you can't change,
that's the first mistake.
but the rest is already swallowed,
swept by the rising tide.
things go missing,
lost somewhere between
you and i,
reshaping history,
rewriting time
all the time.

Ofetn,
I spel wordz,
Awefully wong.

I'll write as many love poems as I want,
But the one person they're for,
Will never read them.