Stone cold, the blackening sky, stole our field of flowers,
soon seeds of dandelions washed away
in watercolor charcoal skies
gone grey.
Tomorrow
all the brightest colors
a mourning
away.
poetry & things
Stone cold, the blackening sky, stole our field of flowers,
soon seeds of dandelions washed away
in watercolor charcoal skies
gone grey.
Tomorrow
all the brightest colors
a mourning
away.