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This Year

Last year,

was too much waiting at

dull bus stops on

rainy sunday

afternoons.

And little rambling

in the sun.

Expectations too high

and moments

in vain.

This year,

there will be no pointless

promises of

ever red roses

in winter snow.

And no shy water

in these eyes.

Remember that these

castles belong in

the air.

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Written by

bluelips

Norwegian

Published: Jan 28, 2014
LinesWords: 2057

Notes: Just something I came up with. Is this any good?

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