The ashes of a sweet wonder tree
With a foothill of the falling
Swept through the river of yesteryears
Slyly ushered into the depths of blue
Walking past the summer homes
The slight rise of the rustic leaves
An Indian afternoon in the island of hope
All the twigs crackling to a touch of fiery
Those who burn in wanton of warmth
By the rolls of endless yearns
Must be the notes that one hears as the midnight scream
When every aspiration draws the faded line
Lasting rails over the pebbled roads
Dreamily running into the paragraphs of troubled lives
Nested into the wilderness of the forgotten
Sharing a laugh with the faint muse in hiding
Barren with the longevity of closing time
An inner cadaver going up the stairs
This was an end thought to be pure
Of all the mistakes that were never proved
Comments