Gently she moves through the waters and the skies.
Neither in darkness or light, she slides in-between the waves and the winds, basking in the glow of the world ever-separate.
She dreams of other lands and adventures; I dream only of her.
Ever moving, she is an enigma of grace and frailty; of elegance and weakness.
I can't make her happy.
Am I a fool?
Sunday, November 2, 2008 | Posted by Aaron Ross at 11:35 PM |
She Runs
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2 comments:
wow this is beautiful. i'm not sure if i understand what it is saying precisely but it reads lovely. like a way too thin piece of paper with a poem on it.
*favorite*
You're very talented, and I really like this one.
~Kendra
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