Capstone

The lips that kissed these tiled floors now split to cough out damp clay dust. Gathered in excited lungs, to build and mold forever more under thatched roof of ripped canvas. Must the strings that hold your heart in tune be plucked free to dance upon the unknown noise. That rings from peach sky mornings to hushed afternoon in the sparrows song. Like the toys that teach creation, Paintbrush’s whispering tongue kisses white with every stroke. Scream forth in colorful kindling that rung your secrets in the wind, leaving dry lungs to dream for knowledge as it seeps from tree rings, the life sap frozen in amber wings.