Time gifts us a brand new journal,
Empty 365 pages.
But what shall we pen on those pages?
With Those forgotten tears, we shall write about those vivid colours, almost monochrome.
Paint broken pieces of our heart, and stick some dead butterflies, that died because of hope.
But we shall also write
With the honey of hope.
A thousand sonnets, blushing at us
Paint a new painting , of unknown colours, yet beautiful.
Stick sunflowers, that will never wither.
And also some clover leaves.