The night falls in pain; the bird learns to fly.
He lands softly on an enchanted tree.
He sings in the rain; no one sees him cry.
He's still wearing chains, with a butterfly,
the colours of the silent night's beauty.
The night falls in pain; the bird learns to fly.
The flower in vain is just passing by
in the bewitching breeze of this story.
He sings in the rain; no one sees him cry.
The supreme dream reigns; it must say goodbye.
Deleting images is not that easy.
The night falls in pain; the bird learns to fly.
The sound comes again; notes in the air die,
the ghost of a violin lost in me.
He sings in the rain; no one sees him cry.
Time to take the train soaring into the sky,
crossing wet rainbows; the truth is scary.
The night falls in pain; the bird learns to fly.
He sings in the rain; no one sees him cry.
About the Creator
Tony Herlin
A dreamer who neither speaks nor writes English, a difficult but highly instructive exercise. (Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience caused).
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.