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.

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