Zone

The wet air that surrounds me

Reminds me of

The streets of LA,

With it's cold wet grounds

Where I've left behind,

And can't go back
 
 

The dead flowers lie strewn across the floor

A youth sitting on the wet ground

Laughing,

Beautiful tinkles sounding in the air

Echoing
 
 

But no matter what I can't go back

Too much I have left behind

The wet streets of LA

And

That beautiful youth of memory.
 

http://xz0ne.cjb.net
voidmatsumoto@yahoo.co.uk