On The BrinkWhen I sighed, in the past
For the foggy roads, of futures vast
Little knowing, that time flies fast
In the land of wide-eyed soons.
I had no dreams of this day
When futures ghosts turn past wraiths
And I would sigh for traversed ways,
On wet, paper-print afternoons.
srtdilse 22-25, M 2 Apr 15, 2012