Balázs László
← Writing← Small pieces of the world

Broken dreams

  1. Dreams and sorrows, parents and lovers, All shall pass like flying colors. You see them for a few, And then mourn them blue.
  2. Whatever new green flies your way, Mixing, sculpting, ingesting them in vain, Nothing prevails. But once you're ready to change, maybe, Maybe then, can your favorite color set new sails.