Ebony darkness
weaves her own melodies
into the silent sky.
Beautiful memories
light up the darkness,
each one exploding, like a firework -
each one, duly expiring.
Then those final colours fade,
as the display draws to a close -
leaving me wondering,
in the empty aftermath
of calm skies:
Wasn't it all just an
exquisite illusion?
Is anything real?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, some things are real - they just don't last unfortunately. That's life, thats why this poem is so relatable. Well written Paula~