A poem I wrote going home on todays foggy day.
I'm running from time,
avoiding faces on trains.
In the sea of dreams
There are but her's lips,
I'd like to taste,
Like swallows hanging in air,
they speak, runnig fingers trough long hair.
I'd fly trough my mirror,
to create little worlds,
from a broken sky.
Sorry if there were grammatical mistakes as english is not my native language.
Thank you for reading (: