(no subject)
Jan. 18th, 2003 05:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avarielwingsAll around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters:
You can be me when I'm gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning,
Afternoon they blossom on,
Still are withered by the evening:
You can be me when I'm gone.
--Neil Gaiman
I can't get that poem out of my head, and I don't know why. Oddly haunting, isn't it?
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters:
You can be me when I'm gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning,
Afternoon they blossom on,
Still are withered by the evening:
You can be me when I'm gone.
--Neil Gaiman
I can't get that poem out of my head, and I don't know why. Oddly haunting, isn't it?
