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.
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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.
