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Every night I dream about you and me. You and I hold each other hand in hand and go on a small path in a spring forest. We are moving towards the end of the trail, toward the light.
Varje natt drömmer jag om dig och mig. Du och jag håller varandra hand i hand och går på en liten stig i en vår skog. Vi går mot slutet av stigen,mot ljuset.
The Badlands are measured by. Standing on a roundabout. Closing your eyes, breathing deeply. Counting backwards in time. Every misery brought to life. Each injustice seen with light.
It's, you know, A strange feeling We've waited for this For so long Everything affected by This terrible paradox Of pulling and pushing Of mending the middle And tearing at edges.
A fraction of a moment. A limbo between dreams and reality. A tiny elation or cause, frozen in time. A beautiful portrait of the past. A souvenir kept in your minds deepest guarded vault.
I couldn't move: no sounds from cries Deep rooted fear froze me on the spot My life flashed right before my eyes I'd remembered everything I'd forgot How is it that our brains take in every tiny...
When it was warm I'd want to be with you, Every morning fear would struggle with the hope. Now I'm cold I crouch above the fire, Always in my mind the thought would be awoken.
We made our way through the tubes that were the hallways of my dream mall.. As I set aside an octopus she showed me, I continued to walk on.
#colourchallenge. Entering the bedroom. of this old and. run down place. My eyes settle on the old. throw trimmed. with Antique lace. Exquisitely embroidered. with old gold. coloured thread.
As I nimbly cross the majestic barriers, driving my way down each curving roads towards a destiny not my own, I find that thought has left me yet unconscious.
Chapter 1 It's amazing. Of all the great moments in your life, none are more personal than the last few seconds of your own existence.
She smelt like cinnamon and pancakes. She tasted like sunshine and the seaside and that twang you get when your parents say their proud of you as a child.
I ignite the sparks, The sparks between us.. They fly past and though the horizon. The years I cried an ocean. Where swept away by a brisk gale of wind...
Last night when I was fast asleep. I suddenly awoke to find. No longer in my cosy bed. I was drifting through time. I saw my mother, six years old. Playing with her toys. And Grandpa was a young man.
Chapter 9 Rose -after asking Mary- decided to look around the house, it was beautifully decorated and had a large amount of rooms. The kitchen was themed black and white.
After learning all kinds of things about birds, insects, plants and what not with uncle Pete We all played hide and seek in the adventure playground. Later that evening we all sat down for dinner.
I stared at the floorplan again. After going through the final transition point, I wanted to know what had gone wrong.
Looking out to sea,find myself drifting away. To a far place in my mind,a place I never stay. A painfully place of memories and loss. A Busy road of feelings I can never cross.
She swirls about in my teapot, A lady in a teacup, Elegant nobility dancing with a lemon, And I wonder If I looked over my shoulder Would she be there, With her peacock feather in her hair.
Hey, Monkey Tree. Beneath the wood. Dome of your arms. Your summer glade. With strong, low bows. Where small we played. And kept at bay. The world while leaping. Branch to branch. In death escaped.
Photos on the walls Mirrors to the past My guard slowly falls How long will this last.
I just woke up, but when I did, I saw everything through the eyes of a kindergartner, and I loved it. Everything seemed so magnificent.