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Chris Saitta Jan 22
Rome has set on the sun,
Spreads the rays of its streets
And the warmth of its torches.
Caesar commands nightfall come,
To make florid incense and wine
And talk as one full of the moon.
The death of a day brings with colours

A glowing golden settles upon the sky

Gradually changing to an orange so deep, that it makes the puddles on the ground seem like liquid gold

As fast as it had arrived, the orange left

Leaving a scarlet in its place

The liquid gold turned to blood

The sky was a battelfield painted red

The once pure, white clouds

Were wounded soldiers staggering back to their homeland

After the airborne war passed, a black overtook the sky

Twinkling specks of light were scattered upon it,

making it seem as though a child spilled glitter across a black canvas

It was done in such a careless way yet,

It was perfect

The colours were gone

But they would return the following day,

Only to be replaced, once again, by the sparkling darkness.

— The End —