WashedA Poem by Morgan Wolfram
Seems a high blunt taste
Seems a beautiful waste Such an elegant shade Why is it to fade? Ribs so grey made? Cities blind in chase Pictures greased to phrase Just as the cloudy air planes that soar above Once playful raindrops, now gloomy love Off painted scapes they shove Colors in history glowed childishly Every tint of earth poured meaningfully Eyes to see beyond what is to be seen Textures and radiance never better then what could have been Pinnacle in the canvas of the wind so lean Glass works sculpted of broken diamonds too keen Else Heaven bend to re-imagine © 2013 Morgan WolframAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on September 4, 2013 Last Updated on September 30, 2013 Author
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