Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2017
Color of the view, only seen by a few.

Music a shard, of though proclaim the clear color is not mask.

That you maybe drank from a flask.

And now, what is the new task.

Hand's play tango, on a white red line bingo.

I think, I've won the oval's turn in bravo's

I leave my head, high not touching the "tallest of trees" for birds have nasty old flea's.

All, the structures are extruding color that the "Sun is baking it a Cake" in black sea.
Written by
Timothy hill  Ny
(Ny)   
  404
   Corvus
Please log in to view and add comments on poems