perhaps
i am just a passing shower
a stranger in the crowd
the summer breeze
drop of morning dew
the train that passed you by
like spiralling smoke
dissipating in the air
perhaps you will
cease to remember
In a Wonderland they lie. Dreaming as the days go by. Dreaming as the summers die. Ever drifting down the stream; Lingering in the Golden Gleam; Life what is it but a dream?