Ezezect
From, a warmth wind a ship is blown past.
A last timber, can not last.
We can wait in the shallow waters.
Waiting, for a lost fathers.
A soft, wind blows are distant path.
We stand in lull and we do not last...
Deicated to
Zephear-
Aura, sa Delphear/
The Tides.
Want to comment on this Short Stories?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|