A yoyo in his hand,
Wrist covered with a band,
Sitting silently under a willow,
He gazed at the leaves yellow.
His past memories invavded his heart,
So viscous they were like a black ****
He longed for his mother to be with him,
All these made his face to fill with grim.
Pain strucked his heart much violently,
But he cried his pain sitting there silently.
He looked around at the trees tall,
They too were suffering the season of Fall.
The path to the willow he sat under,
It was so damaged as if hit by the thunder.
But then he was pleased at the sight looking silently,
The Falling leaves hiding the path so quietly.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
A yoyo in his hand,
Wrist covered with a band,
Sitting silently under a willow,
He gazed at the leaves yellow.
His past memories invavded his heart,
So viscous they were like a black ****
He longed for his mother to be with him,
All these made his face to fill with grim.
Pain strucked his heart much violently,
But he cried his pain sitting there silently.
He looked around at the trees tall,
They too were suffering the season of Fall.
The path to the willow he sat under,
It was so damaged as if hit by the thunder.
But then he was pleased at the sight looking silently,
The Falling leaves hiding the path so quietly.
