The many colors
of his ink
Quenched my thirst each time
I felt obliged to drink
His red
bled in my head
I felt the stain of his pain
and the internal tears that he shed
His yellow
gave a promise of a new day
A sunrise, wise
with hope and a prayer paving the way
His green grew wild
Sprouting ivy all over me
Making me fertile and open to new growth
not just decorative scenery
His purple
ranged from violet to indigo
Soft and endearing, to fiery passion
Oh how the spill from his quill would flow
And with each and every brush stroke,
he painted me a rainbow
As the colors continue to drip upon me
will I float in their fluidity, or will I sink?
In the permanent patella of
his versatile ink
of his ink
Quenched my thirst each time
I felt obliged to drink
His red
bled in my head
I felt the stain of his pain
and the internal tears that he shed
His yellow
gave a promise of a new day
A sunrise, wise
with hope and a prayer paving the way
His green grew wild
Sprouting ivy all over me
Making me fertile and open to new growth
not just decorative scenery
His purple
ranged from violet to indigo
Soft and endearing, to fiery passion
Oh how the spill from his quill would flow
And with each and every brush stroke,
he painted me a rainbow
As the colors continue to drip upon me
will I float in their fluidity, or will I sink?
In the permanent patella of
his versatile ink
