Thursday, 22 July 2010
Take a colour and make it rhyme.
Plant a seed, watch it bloom
in the sunny afternoon.
You may never find the reason
of your long, desired quest
and you are trapped inside a prison
where you're stuck until the end.
Scraps of paper on the floor,
reminders of who walked out the door
no resemblance, just a guess,
some character painted out of nothingness.
The ink used to shape the eyes
may not be a friend of time,
but your sight remains alive
since the words in my ears chime.