sound of fireworks
shaking the earth
clouds of gray
obscuring the blue
smell of incense
filling my lungs
ashes of memories
innocent pure snow
i stand surrounded
by grays in
front of my
grandmother's grave.
YOU ARE READING
watercolor thoughts [completed]
Poesíapoetry by a painter who now paints her art in words "we tread too loudly, too violently on our earth. we smear our dark, ugly night all over the canvas and call it art." #80 in poetry [12/22/16] | © 2016 lookforthatlight
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