I stumbled upon a forgotten graveyard,
and there it sat, on a crumbling tombstone.
A crow, black as Eben and as hard
was its gaze. Now, that the moment is gone,

I remember just few words, carved in the cold
marble below him. "When you will be old,
ask yourself... did You listen to your heart?
That"s the only thing that mattters,
when they push you on the diggers cart..."

Time flies by fast, day after day,
and no matter what they all say,
I want to spend it all with You.
I hope You feel so too..

So hurry up, "cause I want the crow to tell
someone that we have a damn good time
here on earth, and send my regards down to Hell.
I wouldn"t mind if you were forever mine...

And You?


Copyright© Finwaell, 2009-2010

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mensrea  31. 1. 2009 22:36
Does anything matter on the diggers cart? Dead men tell no tales. Live ones do.

Liked it.
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finwaell  1. 2. 2009 01:27
Ďakujem Ten epitaf sa pýta či môžeš umrieť s pocitom, že nemáš čo ľutovať Ale máš pravdu, potom je to už aj tak jedno
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aelin  1. 2. 2009 11:20
Ďalšia skvelá básnička
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