Closed eyes, heart not beating. They lay there on a hearse bedecked with flowers. Flowers which smell of them. So we realise their presence for one last time; as they were near. With every petal 's fragrance waning, they go far and far and far.
Now we know, they are not here. Marvel how a person fades like his scent....
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 1:19 PM UTC
Closed eyes, heart not beating. They lay there on a hearse bedecked with flowers. Flowers which smell of them. So we realise their presence for one last time; as they were near. With every petal 's fragrance waning, they go far and far and far.
Now we know, they are not here. Marvel how a person fades like his scent....