IRC-Galleria

Clowds in the sky, turs to sunlight in the afternoon,
birds singing and weather warming, tells me its going to be summer soon,
the happy sun gives a hand, gives the water, to make the flowers bloom,
the sight of that beauty, never changes this life to be a cartoon of doom.

Hills are whispering me to be quiet, listen to the weather,
rain stops suddently, everything changes better,
I feel Ok, I feel allright, every tear dries when it falls to the ground,
and every bad memory, turns into a lifechanging sound.

Does it have a ending? Does the beauty of the summer end?
It just freezes still, and when it pushes thru the ice,
and everything he wants, is to match the other beauty, to blend.