She waltzes through his mind
While he trips over her melody
And eyes finally lay down their silent guns
He's a shameless drifter
A bedraggled amnesiac in disrepair
Yet he'll never forget the way she moves
The clouds burst of bronze as she rises
Rivers run of silver as she falls
But he remains a frozen epiphany
Her brilliant eyes like a morning star
Her lips flushed in crimson repose
As she sways her way into guarded memories
She waltzes through his mind
While he trips over her melody
And eyes finally lay down their silent guns

green
the colour of freedom
a whispered memory
a mother's touch

red
the colour of blood
needlessly spilled
a river in the streets

grey
the colour of despair
but a remnant
of the candle's flame

death
a colour of...
it must be a colour
the pallor painting the father's-

green
it seems lost
among heartache, loss
will the memory ever fade?

blue
the sky under which children play
will they again?
for the sky is grey

green*
the mother's nation
birthed of strife, breach
shining through

He has a crooked smile
And the brow of an old soul.
He used to cut and smoke a lot
In his grace it's taken it's toll.
But he doesn't have to cry no more
He's found his weight in gold,
She knows his past and holds his heart
Her love now makes him whole.

When
your inner optimist becomes someone else,
someone pessimist,

-that has decided to see the good things,
the least.