
Do you hear her crying through the rustling of leaves?
She is lavishly wasting her tears as she is fading.
Her tender self running through delicate fingers,
her softgreen wings broken.
Vanishing as she had never existed.
Bilder. Geschichten. Fundstücke.
Bilder. Geschichten. Fundstücke.

Do you hear her crying through the rustling of leaves?
She is lavishly wasting her tears as she is fading.
Her tender self running through delicate fingers,
her softgreen wings broken.
Vanishing as she had never existed.
Ein interessantes Bild. Kann aber nicht richtig sagen, was mich daran so fasziniert.
LG Bernhard