Red, like the blood of many years,
Upon the floor.
Blue, like the Ocean of many tears,
That will fall.
Black, like the night sky above,
Of floating starry skies.
White, like the Pallid moon,
A silver lunar ball.
Gold, Like the fiery sun that burns,
A trail across the sky.
Green, Like the growing grass,
To the wind it does defy.
Brown, Like the tree's own bark,
That, from it's lips, tells no lies.
Velvet Burn from a rope of love,
How I wish that she were mine.
'Any rope can burn you. Even if it is as soft as velvet.'
S, Logan-10/9/08
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem