By A. Gabriel Lasmarias
AMA Computer University
Image Source: garden-photos-com.photoshelter.com
A path between rows of trees, of summer.
A bridge on the river at the end of the trail,
Leaves falling down, like a rain of green.
Swaying trees, as the wind dances by.
An empty bench, by the unlit lamppost.
A blanket of brown leaves, mirrors out of rainwater,
Voices in silence, empty gazes up above,
And a pair of pale lips, without a smile.
Wood creaks, as I step on it.
Reflection is blurry, as water’s in rage.
Bridge’s arc is wounded with carvings,
With hearts and letters, of love and bliss.
Journey ended, near blue and crimson,
With a stream of long threads, of ‘dark’ and ‘coal’,
Black pearls for sight, ‘er lips made of cherries,
So thy pair of pale lips, thy art is a smile.