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cold night
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poems Love is where we depart it, a thought that burns and borrows
like roots of some flower working its way through ready to bloom,
bright colors, beyond thought each petaled scar a poem
wrapped in once upon a times clay ciggerate, loves forgot room.
a tree of thought and feelings, swept away by the butchers broom.
dark nights don't always bring brighter tomorrows..
but only in darkness can you really see the lights,
stars, each one a dream, and without distant's
or no concept of time, it really is a infinite ocean of white..
love is a nova, burnings brightest in cold night...
