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AndrewSalazar
The days of our youth were relaxed and still. The taste of the clear evening air on our tongues, the calm and rhythmic rustling was so unyielding to change, you would swear that the sights and sounds of the summer leaves were carved into stone.
(more)
skysailor
the days of our glory are past
now we sit,
peaceful Titans and aging gods,
wondering when our wandering days
slowed and stopped,
when time hung heavy (more)
joem18b
days of wind, the air
full, its passage in the trees
lapsing then surging