Midnights Voice - Notebook Scraps

I, had my marker
I made my way
And the chances not taken
Have all slipped away

There are the leaves
Scattered over the grave
There lie the dreams
As fate has it's say

The cold wind blows
The chances not taken
Into the darkness
Will never be 'waken


Flowers
Are made of petals
Earth,
Wind,
Rain,
And sunlight too.

Then there are
Flowers not
Seen
Made of the
Eveningtime dew

Midnights Voice

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