I was a walker who tired of so much walking
He cried and the road grew.
He was a walker who was overwhelmed by so much walking
He died and the road became widowed.
Spring was identified
with the luck of that man
who died of love
They no longer grow flowers
by the edges of the track
everything there ends without color.
I was a walker who tired of so much walking
He cried and the road grew.
He was a walker who was overwhelmed by so much walking
He died and the road became widowed.
Spring was identified
with the luck of that man
who died of love
They no longer grow flowers
by the edges of the track
everything there ends without color.
The trail felt guilty
that he traveled, rather the path was him.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)