I wonder what my sunset hues will show,
Will crimson stain the trees in fiery grace,
Or dye my gown the shades that softly flow?
Will I then dance, or will I stand in this place?
A vibrant red, or somber shades of grey?
Will clouds ignite, reflecting back the light,
Or hide the sun, and steal its glow away?
Will shimmering warmth transform the fading night?
Will weeping clouds mourn the dying day?
Will watching g eyes with sorrow overflow?
Or smile at memories that gently play,
Of what I was, before I had to go?
These painted questions linger, soft and deep,
As I await the colors I will keep.
YOU ARE READING
Words Best Left Unsaid
PoésieLet's be honest. Some words are better left unsaid, these..these are my words that shouldn't have been said. Some of these I know are not perfect, but they are mine. My thoughts and pain I have been though, I will not apologize for speaking my truth...
