"marscarade" poems
It was the sky’s turn to switch palettes of colour. Though he forgot how, and they overflowed.
Excited for the marscarade ball sky decided to hold.
Colours danced epotic like that never told.
A cream white river sliced in half.
Azure heard thistle laugh.
But I blinked and the ball had settled to black.
Twilight again.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC