Written by: Colin Marschall

How easily words are lost in times slip-wind,
only recalled in dusks blanket, 
just before jealous sky
releases heavens jewels.

A sigh, held in stubborn ego's grip, struggling to escape
from behind lips; pursed, finally bleeds, 
only to fail at the closed door.

Nothing left to burn; memories lie like ashes
in a cold fire-place.