Daria
Wind in the air, and drifting through the trees
and on through walls, the sun is to be seen –
torn up, it drifts on through calamities,
torn up and whole. Now I am sixteen.
Share away:
Wind in the air, and drifting through the trees
and on through walls, the sun is to be seen –
torn up, it drifts on through calamities,
torn up and whole. Now I am sixteen.