running with scissors

as snug as a bug in a rug

6:03 PM achoo-ed by Nashrah Khan

The birds fly in the rain,
A flock of them together,
Reminds me of us.

What we used to do,
Dreaming, planning the future,
Had come to an end.

Innocent we were,
Like children who knew nothing,
Never got bitter.

But we grew, oh yes,
And things weren't the same no more,
So we had to part.

Like those birds up high,
We need to fly away too,
Sooner or later.

It is alright now,
I'm not sad nor am gloomy,
More relieved I think.

Your joy is my joy,
To see things fall into place,
Like heaven on earth.

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