Act Three
By Mouse Poet
As the day slowly slips through the cracks of time, A cry of loneliness echoes through the vast shadows and a gaze is cast upon the waters for a lost hope of his return. The wind softly replies through the barren trees with a melancholy tune of memories unforgotten, of time and time again he professed his love for her and she professed to never love another. Now, even though his presence is far beyond her reach, she can still hear his words, whispering on the passing breeze, "Come with me"This is not the last. Stay tuned for Tomorrow. Written January 1st, 2002 © on Jan 01 2002 11:51 AM PST 18 • 0 • 8
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"As the day slowly slips..."