writerinabox-blog

[writerinabox-blog]

[writerinabox-blog]

little books to read

[writerinabox-blog]

Dreaming

Nothing can buy those little moments back

Like a beautiful scent of a nostalgic fact

In the evening when the sun is setting, beautiful

And the trees are blowing elegantly

with the scent of a million flowers in the air

With my head up in the skies,

without a care

The scent of nostalgia.

With the wind gently kissing my cheeks

As I looked at the bright pink sky

and how the water reflects it

I start to feel a little dreamy,

If only I could feel this forever.

I wanted to be as peaceful and free

as the patch of grass near my feet,

without a care.

Just following the direction of the wind,

where the wind takes them.

This calmness like the light blue colour

of the river.

With my eyes closed,

I am dreaming.

[writerinabox-blog]

Melodrama /// Paintings

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https://www.instagram.com/p/BCtWavbupxD/

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The End of Summer (Yasujiro Ozu, 1961)

[writerinabox-blog]

Nothing

Not the cold walls, loud voices

White paper, sharp pencils

Nothing mattered

It was a plain nothing.

The voices muttered

Innocent dreams fluttered

While mine shattered

Shadows drift, flowers wilt

My pupils moving

My lips sealed

Moving pictures,

All I see before me

Nothing mattered honestly.

- WriterInABox