drops of silence

down my face, from my eyes, aged and old, rushing to the river beneath, promising neverending gold. they glisten and fall, tell all a story unique to each drop. refusing to stop, moving down my face silently, they race each other. who that wins, will drown her happiness finally.

Irrelevant

Seasons come and go, flowers continue to bloom. Who gives way to rain, when sunshine is prevalent,                        behind the mountains                                       the skies           …