GUILTY

I float above a little pool where we used to bathe when we were young. And now, you stand before me like the mark of the end. Your face is hiding under my sacred hands. Do you hear the breeze? It brings back the sweet voices of our sons. It makes the trees laugh. Cold flames don’t watch me burn!

GUILTY

I float above a little pool where we used to bathe when we were young. And now, you stand before me like the mark of the end. Your face is hiding under my sacred hands. Do you hear the breeze? It brings back the sweet voices of our sons. It makes the trees laugh. Cold flames don’t watch me burn!