A dark room, a stubborn thought
Pestering and tormenting
It racks your brain
Like the shelf that holds a heart
A red dab on a palette
As the crimson swirls around
Blood and wine
Flooding the fields
With grazing memories
And thoughts to cleanse
That bitter taste in your mouth
As you go for a darker shade
While the sun tries to hide
And the day once more
Comes to an end
LITTLE TALKS 