Thought of writing here few words.. yet words escaped...
Thought of whispering few murmurer in here.. yet.. could not..
the piano playing.. and me waiting..
it feels strange.. feels awkward sometimes..
when I am not me anymore..
I've been touched..
When words lost their value... and whispers are no longer heard..
but yet felt..
it feels strange..
it feels like early morning rain.. and few dew drops..
a feather falling from sky above...
So quite the world.. so beautiful and washed up..
the green looks greener.. and Blue no longer sad...
no longer as lonely to ponder upon..
anger is no longer red.. and yellow is peaceful instead...
The feather is falling.. and I didn't wake up..
I didn't wake up..
Now, I really wish to ever not..
It feels strange..
Like words can't really tell..
I've just been touched..
Theme: the feather.. Forrest Gump