Poems from tlazovski
What if the past isthe present we remember.Future is next past
As the new day breaks,familiar warm rays caress.Take a break, embrace.
What is scarier?The ending or the waiting.Only time will tell.
High and endless waves,breaking and pounding on cliffs.How to last like them?
Drip, drop. Wail. Drip, drop.Gray ominous sky above,no drops fall from it.