It Lives On
It's such a beautiful day, The magnificent leaves of brown, red, yellow, and orange swirl around in a small tornado, Perhaps the most beautiful thing life has to offer, Perhaps the only thing life has to offer. It's not too cold outside, At least not anymore, Just a bitter after feeling that stings my face when I wince to protect my eyes from the harsh wind. What a fresh smell and a fresh feeling this is. Within all this beauty lies such a direct and evil dissapointment. These leaves will soon dissinegrate, The bitter air will become savage, And winter will consume the beauty that once lied upon the stil fertile ground. I was told long ago every story had a moral, A meaning relating to what life should be, How it should be lived. The moral of this is simple, But not so simple... as I cannot tell you. Some morals aren't taught nor learned, But more or less felt... And I feel it now, From that warm fuzzy area in my chest. It Lives On. Written November 8th, 2001 © on Nov 08 2001 02:38 PM PST 0 • 12
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"It's such a beautiful day,..."