My imagination soars
and transports me to another world regularly
Concerning the fact that the earth has been the source of wonderfulness that has already come from a magical place in the sky,
However, The sky above is already gloomy.
Beamed with the flames of old grief and long-term hatred,
I am snatched by the wings of this dream that is a road
I'd like to walk through the nearby alleys, which are already nostalgic.
.
.
.
The sky has become much more painful as it watches the shakes of the despair heights in here,
but the earth is also present, to embrace the ashes of your corpse.
The weather is rainy, and there is obvious nostalgia for a nearby house as far away as a quiet cottage not so,  far away.
Poetry is an unforgettable experience, accompanying every second of the mind involved in my life.
The clock is a panic taker as it slowly counts down the loneliness minutes.
The sky has a word and frames it on a wall dedicated to causing the mind to begin another adventure.

She was accompanied by a beggar,
in her previous night's dream at the end of a
crowded street.
side by side, within these nightly dreams
She Spun in the Sea,
with the Sky Stars Above,
Peacefully and quiet.
She'd already turned her gaze to the full moon.
She felt relief from the agony that had kept her awake all night;
For a brief moment, she decided to remove her vanity.
The pigeons on the roof of a nearby house’s carefree
sounded like they were trying to type a few nice positively verses
as they were noisily cooing
then pinching on food
about her new manners was a great example of a thoughtful person.
And stopped thinking about the bad luck fate.
Her forehead was drenched in a cold sweat.
She had forgotten about the bad fate because she was so tired from many years ago.
With the nightly sad humming promised hers,
they clicked on the depressing one.
During this quiet period
Finally and forever!
.
.
.
The clouds are being blown away by the wind.
And the people behind the happy masks send an invitation to their friends who are heavily involved in a quiet time.

A ******* the street,
With the breeze and accompanying
was looking for a small dream,
A dream that in its early years have become walking the holes of the streets.
The girl's feet were wounded by the forces of the time but
she was very determined.
Yes! Her little dream was as powerful as her laborious hand;
She was harmless, full of poet's feelings, And such an ocean of goodness.
And her kindness and her little dream had been the talks of numerous girls.
She modified into naked feet
And wearing Torn clothes.
she modified into ambitious with a hint of childish dream in her hear

walking beyond the hours as days
looking for a piece of solace,
on the identical time as I emerge as beaten with loneliness
annoying this existence entire of hatred
and cherished someone who in no manner existed

the summertime season is a great climate,
The one which couldn't have anybody enjoy it in another season
And breathing The springtime climate,
is a choice that might have absolutely each person reveals in oneself
The scent of the moisture and the muddy soil imbued with the rain Falls

The weather was cold and dark and the road was covered with Snow
Only you could see the footprint of a smuggler running into the cabin while he was panicking in the snow,
A cottage near there and I tracked his footprint into the cottage.

The narrow uncrowded lanes,  lives in the memory
When life's in 1990s
On the top of the urban lifestyle.