The clouds
Paint a picture in blue
Hangs it high on the roof
They leave the room
Leaves it full with
A Throne of mirrors waiting to be filled
Then comes Night
With her crown and lies
Reigning upon the skies
Day emerges
Glowing golden ball in hand
Topple the throne and seize his claim
An arrow
Flies across the skies
Flaming with fury
Silent with not a trace
Day eats
And drinks and burns and revels
The arrow sinks and kills
Then night returns
Without her crown and lies
Sit on the throne and feels alive
Then, a rumble in the ground
The clouds return
Rebel at rule
Seize the skies and burns the fools
The sun and moon
The orb and crown
Dance once more in the sky
Circles going round and round
Just like our lives
YOU ARE READING
Short Fictions, Thrills And Wonders
Short StoryA silent night falls, quiet and menacing, a gauze over the bright light of the day. A writer, fueled by coffee and daydreams keep typing into midnight, fingers moving furiously. These are his stories. Cover by:@-hhangry
