Dancing over the primrose skies,
on the ribbon road of orchids and sighs,
I look out the window sill and stare at my white tea,
overthinking our memoirs and rose flowered dreams,
I can’t write, I can’t write.
my fear of art abandoned by happiness has happened,
once my agonies and and my sorrows leave,
my pain,
my sufferings,
my grieve,
my art and vivid light follows out that door,
out that narrow hall,
when will I learn how to ignore ?
without pain…I am lost.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *