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Stumbling
October 1, 2011
Bottle up all that you’re holding,
Because who needs all this tumbling?
Falling into this pit of ironies.
I am surprised how rarely we meet, in every sense of the word.
Guess there’s something intricate,
In words unsaid,
Like quiet leaves,
Wandering.How often are we falling?
How decrypt have we become?
If only we said something,
Maybe that would be enough.
And I can't help but wonder,
How often a smile touched your lips.
So I can’t help but wonder,
If you are falling with me.
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