In a few hours the sun
Will creep above a grassy horizon,
Radiating messy colors.
And the artists will be there
To spill their color palettes
All over again.
YOU ARE READING
Goodbye, Pastel
PoetryI wonder is you can feel it too- The discrete pockets of sunlight Slipping through on dreary days; It warms my skin and fuels my smile. I'll keep the garden, After all. {Sequel to Fake Flowers}
Early
In a few hours the sun
Will creep above a grassy horizon,
Radiating messy colors.
And the artists will be there
To spill their color palettes
All over again.
