Buried beneath the same old memories
Are the papyrus and the paper scraps
The kind which will be eventually tossed
Just to settle upon the winds of trash
But even still in stillness found
Like a dream born near in this reality to pass
Though it’s a beautiful and ironic sight
I am sleeping on your memory at last
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 4:13 PM UTC
Buried beneath the same old memories
Are the papyrus and the paper scraps
The kind which will be eventually tossed
Just to settle upon the winds of trash
But even still in stillness found
Like a dream born near in this reality to pass
Though it’s a beautiful and ironic sight
I am sleeping on your memory at last
