let the moaning of a spring heart ring remotely
romping across this frightened field of ambition
retire, bragging gently of the capacity for pain.
let the sun whisper breathlessly in shades of red,
as night arrives in symphonic splendour
here where my dreams pour across the faded linoleum floor.
let my day now withdraw in dark colours,
caressing the dream and all who inhabit her
to be but a single raindrop
sliding like a tear,
down my cheek
distant as the storm upon the windowpanes.
Need Help? Contact: firstname.lastname@example.org
All Pan Historia logo images are the exclusive property of Pan Historia Inc. and not to be
reproduced or used for any purpose without written permission. ®2000 thru 2011 Pan Historia