a short verse

 life's tincture bleeds and bleeds away,

rose petals slowly rust.

Drab offices all built in grey,

amidst the bones and dust.

Reviews

[The Perfectionist]

I couldn't have titled that better myself. I had to go look up what tincture meant, and I consider myself pretty well versed in English, so that's saying something, but that doesn't really say much about the poem, now does it? Actually, I can't really say anything about it. Your spelling is fine, your grammar is fine; the thing is too short to critique anything else. Good job, I guess.