Red Paint
Soaked in a painting bucket
You plugged your ears with silence
Drip, and drip... tiny dots of absence
The road was all red
When the summer's gone,
What good would it deliver?
The paint will run down the road
But the roses would never
_____
KJMD
YOU ARE READING
For You, Alone (Poetry Dedication)
PoetryJust the poetries I wrote for those people I have met whom either I've lost, I love, I miss, I adore, or I simply get attached to.
