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Nov 2011 · 917
Strangers
autumn breeze Nov 2011
Mist shroud the highest trees,and i can't see you.I remember only that old wooden bench where we once sat,talked and made love.I shall never forget the day i met your eyes,close to the sacred shrine,beneath a forest canopy.How many songs did we play?how many rivers did we cross on a bridge which isn't there,how many roses blossomed on my ivory skin with every whisper of your heart.Tomorrow!what about tomorrow?tomorrow we will wake up and we would never know,we would never care,tomorrow we'll be strangers.

— The End —