leaves [Theme] Page 4

Winter came,
The trees were bare,
All the leaves they plucked
The cruel wind.
Only the pines are green on the top.

Whisper in the wind
Bamboo leaves,
And this sound
Charms us and conjures up the sadness
Not only in autumn...

And in the evening, the transparent blue
Shiny cough damp autumn
And cold washed foliage
In yellow puddles casts bright shadows
Ah youth, you can not forget
Oblique fire evening weather
And with nowhere to go and no one to love
Idleness and pity without the outcome

People are not rain, snow or autumn leaves. They do not look beautiful when you fall.

Don't kill my sparkle love fuse
Let us be alone a little bit, sarge!
As if autumn in the yard, suddenly colder
Yes, and liberals, like the withered leaves lie
And the whole world around seems to stop
There is nothing but your opinion
I'm telling you, "Hey, I think in love"
You whispered to me: "Putin is a thief".

We say that we are moving through time, from past to future, just as the ship sails across the waves in an unknown sea. Sometimes we feel like watching the time, being as though still outside of it, like we stand on the bridge and watch as the current carries branches and leaves somewhere into the distance.
Events like these leaves and twigs: they're coming to us from the future, at a moment are in front of us and then swim away, hiding in the past.

There is ash; it blows, like leaves in a storm. They can not catch, count, measure or capture. But we all know that. I was hoping it was a collective madness. The color drained world, because we splashed out of my humanity.

Yellow drops - Sunny glare
Warm spots, happiness and summer.
Quiet tenderness will be spilled
In pink as clouds at dawn.
Drops green freshness combines -
The leaves and grass in wet ground.
Transparent drops - drops of sorrow,
Tears of rain on cold glass.
Droplets of scarlet beads of blood
I will heartbroken;
Drops of dairy - those that will cover
Warm lips suckling.
Blue droplet spray of the sea
In memory of seagulls, freedom, and wind.
Black droplets splash mountain:
Drops of fear, drops of death.

Autumn, the leaves
Motley will travel along the carpet.
Rustle, rustle underfoot...
Blow in unison.

In swampy meadow grew the tall reeds interspersed with sedge - excellent forest for the mouse built. Rush picked a few of the growing number of the reeds, climbed on them, chewed off the tops and ends of splintered teeth. He was so small and light that the grass is easily kept it.
Then he took up the sheets. He climbed sedge and bit off a leaf near the stem. The sheet fell, the mouse climbed down down raised front paws sheet and stretched it through clenched teeth. Wisp stripes leaves mouse is dragged up and deftly weaved them into the split ends of the cane. He went on such a thin blade of grass, they bent under him. He connected their tips one by one. In the end he turned out to be easy round the house, very like a bird's nest. The whole house was the size of a baby fist.
Side mouse did it move, inside laid out with moss, leaves and thin roots. For bed, he dragged soft, warm floral down. The bedroom is good.

The leaves on the trees have already agreed with the wind, the autumn meet? Mountain river or ask at a mountain: Why did you make me like this?

A fragment of time in eternity,
We like you a pair of lovers,
Stepping as quietly as possible on the roof of the world,
To know that all pages of all books are clean.
Say, a poem should kill you
And only after that you will be able to write
But the word does not die, when spoken,
It only begins to live.
;In guidebook to the dark world should see the star.
Life is simple for the heart, beats it while you can.
Rain soaks the clothes
Silk cocoons of poetry, a new poetry...
Like a monk illuminating a scroll -
Fallen into the hands of cesarean wound foliage...
Leaves always sigh once
Their words are like shady rooms, soft silence
In it they come to weave in the phrase...
Opinion is erased...
Something stresses thoughts
Who grew up next to a naked nights
And weight, weary of my weight, it gives itself the sacred games.
Profile of night of the abyss flavor...
People are divided into two types -
Crazy crickets or wounded fireflies.
A type of person comes scattered
In a deep breath of Holiness
His nights weigh as rocks in the grass time.
;Milk spilled from the jar on the table -
It was as if something came down on someone else's territory...
The world is a big maze in the ruins.
And frankincense feeling harder swings a censer of rows
Uttering another fragment of prayer.
It gives understanding that the void which we crowded,
We can not wait.
She picks our black and haunt us brightness...
She finds the words that I speak only with us.
And our eyes melt and weep,
And we swim through the thaw to continue to live.
She asylum, those soft mirror
Where do we hide after tears.
On the beach of White Stones
Love revived al the poems in my blood...
And when I looked up, I realized
that page become like fire,
So then, let us go to keep our ashes.

- Something that will not hurt me, ' he said aloud.
His eyes turned red, then darkened.
Flushed and darkened.
And then there is only darkness.
- Sheets, - said the voice of Ronan Lynch, full of power and aspirations.
- Dust, - said Adam Parrish.
The wind, said blue Sargent.
- Shit, - said Henry Chang.

From the icy wind
Turn red and fall...
Quietly, like a secret,
Layer by layer to fall on the heart
The leaves are bitter words.