tiny poem story #5
remembering red
The grey rain began, at first gently,
tapping the tips of the leaves,
finding small holes in the black dirt
to become little ponds for floating ants.
They all wore black.
They couldn’t find him amongst the dead.
So they pledged with downward head
to gather all things Red;
place him amongst extravagant hues
and pour plasma in softened clay urns
to remember his passion for Life.
migrainemuse
thank you so much.