In by Nicole Fehrenbacher0 Comments

(Are you) elderly?

The frogs are sitting in the wind

When we get wise at heart thinks he

What is loss but a falling leave?

Only memory makes history, that of pain, for sure, it will

One to/Want to tell, where to my time?

Where to, if not away?

Thus vanity is washed away

Value next to me here on the ground

Sofacoloured faces dont make sound

I heart

Time is such a different thing

So Meet me then where your line grows

While i think my hair turns grey

And while somebody is counting stars

The frogs sit quiter still.

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