Back To The Well Poem by L.A Barboza

The book of the past,
Is gone.
The book of the present,
Stands before me.
Stars are screaming at you telling you to kiss me,
And you just say I´m not even worth a poem weekly.

Look at the reflection of a lake,
And see the water turn light red.
Look at the shine of the sun,
And see dark shut it down off.

Chilly peppers are beheading my dreams,
And excitement is impulsing my steem.
Water is making the snow grow,
And fire is making the candle something more.

I would wait for hours,
To see if you answer.
But remember I will count the days,
That you´ve been going out with that dancer.

Remember the feeling of being alone,
Feel the chilly pinch of the snow.
Go ahead and burn into Hell,
But remember I will go there to take you,
Back to the well.