Impromptu Poetry: 3. Petals
Crisp sounds, between crackling pages
Old memories, of long-gone sages,
They crust off of words, stains of ages
Crumble against my fingertips, fall like tears,
Measures of my pain, in forgotten gauges.
Rose and rust, bronze and gold
All but dust, stories never told
They lay there gone, and ever to stay
Between cream sheets, heart on display.