There was a sheet of paper, white,
For a sad writer’s last delight,
And on the canvas’s carmine night
In coral red I sit and write...
...about the dreams I used to dream,
About the darkness and the steam,
About some roses which redeem,
A spirit lost in ocean's stream.
...about the shadows within light,
About the pale amaranth sight
That guides my eyes, maybe in spite
Of reason, to an endless fight.
...I think a secret was the theme,
But rather I will not blaspheme.
I'll leave the silence to a scream.
And to the reader my esteem.
© 2010 Lith Ium