![]() The Sun's BloodA Poem by NoizAs a sunset closes day, The terrace speaks with dials. It bleeds from a fray, But runs with a jostle. As the blood drips to a sill, The second sun aches. For clouds pulse water, But a storm is only wine. The terrace cuddles white And the blood is coupled to air. In its final stretch of care, A sunset wraps its wrists. © 2017 Noiz |
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1 Review Added on February 5, 2017 Last Updated on February 5, 2017 Author![]() NoizMuskogee, OKAboutA simple person, who wishes to express his ideas and thoughts. My favorite things are literature, art, music, and film. more..Writing
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