The grass turns grey and the mist prevades the space There is a beauty afar over the river who’s in an anxious wait I would go against the current and snuggle up to her even though there are rapids and the way is circutous Also, I like to float down the stream and look for her trace Only to find she seems to be standing in the middle of the water The grass turns grey and the mist prevades the space There is a beauty afar over the river who’s in a desperate wait
Hi, everyone. I am a Chinese. Actually I am a major in bioengineering, but I developed a hobby of reading and writing English poems when I was in college. I got to know highonpoems by chance on twitter, it's a marvellous website for me and my like.
Beauty Careful as I got, paying heed to the sculpture With such finesse, and an eye of a vulture Every peculiarity went on to depict a story Incarnating legends, of the war that was gory Over the period beauty stood
Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security
There is no moon. The quite surrounds us. The sound of a footstep Floats across the wire. We hear noises when dark. Nothing to fear, need to relax. Frank want’s to know, Did I hear a noise? Knock it off