Those four walls - a library,
housed thousands of lores.
Some glimmering gold,
Others darkened to core.
Unfurl the shiniest,
The sparks will twirl with mirth.
The spirits will transcend you,
To womb of sun where our lore took birth.
There we were,
Escaping the Eyes.
built our house of gold,
Under the starry skies.
Our love- the Midas' touch,
painted our world gold.
It shimmered and shined,
Never was there a moment of cold.
The spirits turned into demons,
even Midas met his doom.
sparks turned into ashes,
The last page was nothing but gloom.
Those four walls - hell,
Every day descended to a lower level.
Our love fell into the pits of Tartarus,
Love doesn't survive the land of devil.
a.b.
YOU ARE READING
Fire and Flood
PoetryShe hardly met sunshine, Her lover in disguise, But when they met, They drew colourful rainbows on the skies.
