flying down the path, wind in my hair
Maybe, by chance my troubles will be gone with the wind
Passing people as I go, each one a blur.
Not slowing down, I need to be here, get there.
I glance to the side, see a withering rose
If only I could stop, take a whiff before it is gone
But life is calling.
tell me what you think, what pops into your head, tell me well anything! thank you
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