so many smiles,so many faces,so many livesleave their traces. so many nods,so many tears,so many feelingsover the years. the fingers that softlytouched your cheek;the voice you wantedto hear all week. those little thingsthat mattered a lot,they never go away,or so
following the footstepsof the great idiot;painting onto the canvasof forgotten dreams,with colors you can seeonly with your eyes closed.learning to perform miracles;practising, believing,until they are easier than breathing.laughing the cloudsoff the face of the sun,and crying the rain downto wash
what colour are my dreams?red, blue, green or black?are they real or just streamsof cotton fluff lying around? should i try and touchthem? i dunno what will happen.honestly,i really don’t know muchabout all this dreams and stuff. i supposedly am
i play a tune…of wide open skieswith cotton clouds and clear,of my family and friendsand all that i hold dear. i sing a song…of chilly winter eveningswhen sentences turn misty;spent with hot chocolateand books, old and dusty. i hum along…to
