Treasure Island

Emily Dawn


Muse


Colors fade.
Flowers
Disintegrate.
The sun sets.
The waxing moon
Wanes.
The tides recede.
Fire becomes ash.
Pleasure becomes pain.
And we retreat,
to start again
With Fresh paint
A New muse
Wet ink
And a
Blank page.

Submitted: Monday, August 05, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, August 06, 2013
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