Teen Ink

   The gentle pattern of

fallen rose petals

decorate a lonely canvas.

Bright acrylics,

and shades of grey

form geometric

shapes, in the

shadow of an

empty rocking chair.



The tattered lace

curtains blow in the

delicate breeze.

A certain coolness

fills the abandoned

room, where

fresh cut daisies

once stood in

glass vases.

The sun is a glowing

twinkle of jasmine.

Clouds dance in and out

of the transparent rays

of warmth.

Never will

they hinder a single

burst of laughter and

never will they overtake

the basking slivers of hope.



Our own desires fill

the empty palette

with tints of color.

Primary.

Our hidden fears

will show up in tinges

of stained and worn

paint brushes.

Secondary.