it was only for a minute that my eyes fell away
somewhere deep within this thought.
rose red bouquets turns to grey.
hoping after wandering on this day.
wondering how this snow would lay.
disconcord, Falls to me it seems.
I meander on with tattered seems.
butterflies that float on flutterby with hope gone.
prisons like prisms that trap light inside.
Seers, their visions hold them to listen.
inside trapped and inside themselves they abide.