The Lost Souls

My mood now?

The lone ghost among the graveyards, standing silently between tombstones, reaching the hands to the unwilling groom. Her wide black dresses float in the air and her blank face shows no emotions. The wandering soul in the early September glory.

Mortaur sounds so good when the sun is bleak and the wind cleans the field from the freshly fallen leaves.

Nostalgic feelings of the day, checked. Strong black coffee, is what I really need. Or cappuccino. Nothing as good as the taste of almonds.

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