The sky is painted with a million colors.
Like it's being slashed with a pallet of hues.
They are all mushed and smeared together.
Soon to be murdered by the dark of night.
Nothing left but the memory.
Soon to be forgotten by the feeble human mind.
This is a sestina poem....
But alas, the hues paint the memory
They continue to slaughter the night together
And still, in my mind are a million colorsShow more
