Apr 2018
She isn't April's rain,
She isn't the silver moon,
She's a flower
That bloomed out of rocks,
She's the stirring inside
The poets
Trying to sleep,
She's the sunset
Van Gogh
Couldn't paint.
She isn't the silver moon,
She's a flower
That bloomed out of rocks,
She's the stirring inside
The poets
Trying to sleep,
She's the sunset
Van Gogh
Couldn't paint.
You all are sunsets, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
