Colors
>> Sunday, July 1, 2007
A dry leaf falls
On the weathered carpet of corpses
The pale sun dries any sign of life
And the cruel wind tears all webs of connection
A little child skips
Among skeletons
A dreamy poet remarks
The soft colors of grey death.
On the weathered carpet of corpses
The pale sun dries any sign of life
And the cruel wind tears all webs of connection
A little child skips
Among skeletons
A dreamy poet remarks
The soft colors of grey death.
2 comments:
your impulsive bursts of creativity r an interesting read....
Wow. Lovely.
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