Rainstorm
May 19th, 2010, 08:31 PM
The senses - sights, smell, touch and taste,
A world not decided or dependent on fate.
Where up is down and black is white
The ground will fly, just like those kites.
A bird will moo, a cow will caw,
A hammer will take the place of a saw.
Where all you know is not as it seems,
Your ideas rush by in the form of a stream.
To create not one, not two, but three.
Three Silent Streams of Dreams.
Not very good at poetry, but enjoy :)
A world not decided or dependent on fate.
Where up is down and black is white
The ground will fly, just like those kites.
A bird will moo, a cow will caw,
A hammer will take the place of a saw.
Where all you know is not as it seems,
Your ideas rush by in the form of a stream.
To create not one, not two, but three.
Three Silent Streams of Dreams.
Not very good at poetry, but enjoy :)