To Ink

Sunset turns to ink splotch
Carousels of violet shadows stutter trees
Burst into bloom dreams on the hook
Woven with fabrics of regret to lose
Yourself in leaves and weaves together selves
Of now or ever will be not
Fading lights and lines watch
Sunset turns to ink splotch



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 572 times
Written on 2017-03-09 at 00:26

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