A soft graze of wind and a murmur of silent beauty pass along the vision.
A piece of pink and white floats beyond the soil and over the water.
The shards of what was once beautiful are shedding off now.
Strands of pink suspended in the gravity of your vision.
Branches, like fingers, push off the tiny boats to their new destination.
Insignificant types of differences in the air.
This is where the times dissuade into the light.
The reasons disappear and the thoughts only pondered after the rising of the shards of color.
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Shini; don't piss me off or I'll steal your soul.
Who needs foreplay when you've got a bass guitar?
Join the dorkside of the force: ~dadorksRus.
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