Color Empty

By Ashes-Onik
October 19, 2019

a wind turns grass to gray
and still it was my place
citric stains bring fruit in folly
while here i'm left hanging

tides of mood, reds and blues
they speak soft alls to deaf ear
the aged call of fall inlaid
when i'm full of empty

clarion harrow night of white
to solace once found of breath
paint intrusion over me
in the eve of my wave

see fracture been of glass green
when your wind blows shatter
come mark the leaves i see turning
to my ever first demise


© 2022 Ashes-Onik