The splendour of a sunrise
as Summer turns to Autumn.
We look to the quiet hills
and breathe in the morning air.
In our hearts, the rain falls low,
grieving for the unknown kids.
Their imagined grey faces,
shells of so many futures.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
The splendour of a sunrise
as Summer turns to Autumn.
We look to the quiet hills
and breathe in the morning air.
In our hearts, the rain falls low,
grieving for the unknown kids.
Their imagined grey faces,
shells of so many futures.