The Brown Daughter | Poetry
We are not as white as snow For we are the earth on which the flowers grow. We are wrapped in autumn While our souls dance in blossom.
We are not as white as snow For we are the earth on which the flowers grow. We are wrapped in autumn While our souls dance in blossom.
We are all made of dreams We all want to touch the sky And find our ‘why’ But we have our excuses For one, the sky is too high Or the laws of nature are a complete lie.