This is how memories are made,
and broken shards of colored dreams get gathered and are put to sleep,
with sad and tearful lullabys.

Sneaking out of bed at nights, they walked around the empty streets,
and let their lips sing wordless songs of
all things their true love forbade.
Until the day when legs were chained and lips were sealed;
and one by one their sins were paid.

Covering my ears with his hands, my father cried some lengthy nights.
What have they done to you my dear?
What sins have brought upon you this?
Shall each new born from this day forth
have mark of cain on his forehead?

Flowers wilt in waiting hands and restless eyes keep getting blurred,
you fall to sleep of tiredness as I fall deeper into love.
Those days have, look, come back again.
to sit and watch the colors fade,
and cover the self in falling leaves.
Is this when I start to fly?
Is it time yet for our promenade?

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.