Monday, November 30, 2009

Every parting is a form of death,
as every reunion is a type of heaven.
When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum....

In true love the smallest distance is too great,
and the greatest distance can be bridged.


Life is so short,
so fast the lone hours fly,
We ought to be together, you and I,
I wish...

No comments:

Post a Comment