I sit in the window, skies dark grey
I look at the leaves falling past the glass pane
So many colors for all to see
But they are dying unhappily
Flowers are wilting, the sun is long dead
And I'm still hanging on one thin thread
Waiting for the world to come alive again
Because I know this isn't its end
YOU ARE READING
Splashes of ink
PoesíaSplashes of ink on an empty page; Only growing darker with age. ======================== Poetry book