The sun on ones face,
The heat of a fire,
The color of her hair,
And blood on a tire.
The warmth of a sweater,
The sweetness of may,
The look in her eyes,
And the day he died.
The sweet kiss from a lover,
The form of another,
The big water vat,
And the trickle and splat.
The days that go by
The way of a lie
The day he would tell,
And way that she fell.
YOU ARE READING
A House of Turquoise and Clouds
RandomPoems, poems here and there. Short Stories everywhere. Look and look all you want. You will definitely find something you can flaunt.
