lea-legacy

Poetry, Doesn't come to hand at free, It saves you From the happenings and true. A feeling or thought, Which never wants to rought. It may be happy or even sad, Either way it's not meant to be bad. Let the imagination roll, Where no one else can stop you from what's being told. It is all turning to a personal memory, Which can or can't effect you or me.

I want to be Free, Deep Deep Deep inside of Me, Where my Soul, Does not feel Cold, Where the Sun always shines, Right between these Bordered lines, That the Sky becomes blue, I keep thinking that this place is with you.

I know a lonely travelling snail Who journeys only with his mind Only wanting to come out in the rain Looking for something he cannot find In his endless search in utter darkness It's hard for the snail to see the light To feel the comfort of the brightness And to grasp on tight A ladybug tries to show the snail How the faded color of his shell Can become so much brighter and clearer If only he'd understand The optimism of the sun The ladybug will help him fly The snail lets the rain pour upon him Believing that its replenishing Trying to comprehend this dim He is reviving, He is reviving His colors brightly reappear Th