Shaun
I wonder, sometimes, if she ever thinks of me.
If she knows that I kept only one picture of her. Anything else was just too painful. In the picture, she doesn't know I am taking it until the camera flash goes off. She has been sitting at the bàn in her old bedroom, and she is half-smiling.
**************************************************
I walk up to her, not breaking eye contact. Nothing existed but her.
The little girl was perched on her hip.
I trailed my fingers down her jawline. She still didn't move.
"Why did bạn leave?"
I wonder, sometimes, if she ever thinks of me.
If she knows that I kept only one picture of her. Anything else was just too painful. In the picture, she doesn't know I am taking it until the camera flash goes off. She has been sitting at the bàn in her old bedroom, and she is half-smiling.
**************************************************
I walk up to her, not breaking eye contact. Nothing existed but her.
The little girl was perched on her hip.
I trailed my fingers down her jawline. She still didn't move.
"Why did bạn leave?"
Time is just a thing.
bạn can't ever have to little.
bạn can always have enough.
But when bạn look at it,
our lives are just a piece.
A piece of what time has to give.
So why not live the fullest,
to what we can.
Why waste it wishing,
on something you'll never have.
Let time do its own thing,
so we can do ours.
bạn see time is mysterious.
It controls our lives.
And in one quick second,
our time may be up.
So take what you're given,
and give nothing back.
With time nothing is ever what it seems.
bạn can't ever have to little.
bạn can always have enough.
But when bạn look at it,
our lives are just a piece.
A piece of what time has to give.
So why not live the fullest,
to what we can.
Why waste it wishing,
on something you'll never have.
Let time do its own thing,
so we can do ours.
bạn see time is mysterious.
It controls our lives.
And in one quick second,
our time may be up.
So take what you're given,
and give nothing back.
With time nothing is ever what it seems.
Photograph by Ansel Adams
I'm just drifting, drifting down this road.
The dust kicking up behind me,
Just a đám mây to hide my past.
My feet don't leave any footprints,
My name never graces those lips
That I'm watching from a distance,
A distance that grows greater
As I'm drifting, drifting down this road.
I'm not on the way to anything great,
I'm just hiding, hiding down in the dark.
The shadows closing in around me,
Just a blanket to smother my past.
My eyes can't see in the gloom,
My voice never breaks the silence
That I keep deep in my heart,
A tim, trái tim that grows blacker
As I'm drifting, drifting in the dark.
