An oasis where dreams come true,
Palm trees wave in the warm breeze,
And birds sing a happy tune of their own.
The night exhales its cold breath.
Torrents of wind whip across the sand,
Where dark shadows leave no footprints,
And tourists remain innocent no more.
THE DEAD GAME


Thank you for sharing my piece of paradise where dreams might not come true.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re very welcome, Susanne! I love your work! @v@ ❤
LikeLike