“Buff your dreams”, she was singing for herself.
Mornings are coming with new inner for her soul. Thoughts which stay to explode in thousands of pieces. What has been done salutes aging from the deepest valley of happiness. What has been planned was following the paths up to the tops. What has been loved sparks through nostalgia in the eyes. What has been lost in the gap of confidence yells to the memories; long way spent negotiating the joy on the others’ table. Dreams steamed in the heart’s rooms, locked in the front of prejudices. Passion silenced on the waves of skirmish.
“Buff your dreams!
Make them shine.
Let them speak.
Speak to gut.
Trust your gut.
Buff your dreams”
Evenings are coming to calm the soul. Eyes of faith look to the bridges over time. Where everything could be pacific. Where dreams will rest on the serenity. And…
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