eclipse Posted May 28, 2014 Share Posted May 28, 2014 Winter through the eyes of spring, summer throughautumn's eyes I would like to paint to warn me of the faint swing of death' scythe-the debutof his aura thrives amongst those ready to beborn in heaven's birthing pools. The ghost trainarrives in this rest home to pick up thenewly deceased,in my eyes in the panesI see death painting me seasonally,he shuffles the seasons from glass to glass,he passes through a dream to breathe and blowguiding flakes of snow through four seasons acrossto the threshold of an artist's window.Before my brushes forever dry I will findmy signature snow flake in winter's wind. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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