Sepia

Outside, the sky bled muted silhouettes, watercolor of ash and silver,
Rain, cascaded a crystalline surface, pops and mops, like a whisper,
Framed, polished made wise, drunk with sagas seen, its scratches tell tales it can’t deliver,
Held, like an ephemeral lull, gaze dazed by the maze, flesh’s quiver.

Beneath the weep, lay the asleep, a flower’s keep,
Its breath hushed, its colors crushed, in silence’s brush,
No light to hold, stem in a chokehold, no leap,
A faded grace in the shadow’s lace, a vow in thrush.

Still it stood, in its harmony, through lush and hush,
Ghosted in gold, melodic murmurs and quiet blush,
Though it breaks, broke it did with grace,
A gleam that once shone, faded in its place.