Lois Posted April 1 The green abyss of cabbage wind whispers with a square echo in the emptiness of carrot eyes. Through transparent walls rushes the crimson scream of a giraffe dancing on the edges of forgotten numbers. Eleven moons wept glassy shadows when yesterday's rain forgot why it was falling. And only the fish, closing the book of inevitability, understood the meaning of what never existed. Hypothetical little bells stretch into nowhere, but no one comes there anymore, for time has dissolved in the scents of a forgotten dream. Â Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
