thomasunderlandaily

These eyes Iaugh at what the camera tries to capture,

Emotions do the same with such letters,

so clumsy and inadequate.

How could we ever hope to express the little things?

Tell me about sunsets from the rooftops,

the way the blues and beauty meet so well.

Sing to me of days gone by,

and what message do the crows speak of?

Tell me of wonder, and of love,

for I long to understand, and I know I never shall.