The Flute
星期二 九月 08, 2009 6:37 am
Somehow it tells story
Of the past,
reminding me of memories
beyond words.
I follow its moonlit path
Without worry of getting lost.
I can see myself
reflecting light from your pupils,
and drops rolling over
your face
The wind blows in and out,
but I cannot make a sound,
no matter how the tides rise
and recede.
I lie on the remote beach,
Like an empty shell,
taking in all the sounds
until the music dies out inside.