Forgetting Is Living Without Regretting...

the sound of the whispering winds of spring is the same as the soft spoken words we had funny how those once happy words, now make me sad we used to lay in a bed like a queen and king but, tonight I lay in bed and wonder what tomorrow will bring the sound of a campfire where everyone forgets is the same as the fireplace we once slept by on frozen nights as the winter flakes would fly when the snowy storms blocked even sunsets but both now and then I live without any regrets the sound of rain on the leaves of a white oak is the same as tears hitting this farewell letter we always know that, someday, it will get better but for this last moment the tears slowly will soak around this setting ink that you did provoke