1 comment
Sometimes there were words,
meaningless, often
they were written, just to be written,
so that it seemed full

Sometimes there were colors,
trying hard to make sense,
but that's what they could be,
they were there,
just to look colorful

Sometimes there was murk,
pushing hard to fill it up,
blackened it without a spot left,
murkier than murk could be,

but now, there it is,
just a clean slate and nothing more

1 comment:

  1. A very nice little poem.. I liked it especially the end.. talking about clear mine.. (I guess)..!


I'd love to read what you have to say, so please...