I miss the roar of the fires...
The warmth of the flame
that fuels the luscious
red in me.
I despise the wiles
of indifferent clocks,
the incessant ticking...
That eats into skin and bone.
I anticipate the return of colour.
For all I see, only lingers
within the seemingly infinite
levels of grey.
But I loathe the notion...
That when that time
would finally arrive,
all would’ve turned to stone.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC
I miss the roar of the fires...
The warmth of the flame
that fuels the luscious
red in me.
I despise the wiles
of indifferent clocks,
the incessant ticking...
That eats into skin and bone.
I anticipate the return of colour.
For all I see, only lingers
within the seemingly infinite
levels of grey.
But I loathe the notion...
That when that time
would finally arrive,
all would’ve turned to stone.
