That shimmer with an innocent glow,
Cobalt blues mingle with the bright ocher fluids,
Which hide in its insipid depths and fret away,
All dancing and pure on this mornings fate,
Paint all day and rest for the nights they'll wait,
Never, will one think that it's a summer sun,
Oh, but the winters hands are cold and cruel,
It leaves everything icy and pained for nothing will forget,
To urge us on and out of this place,
And then all is dark,
As the clouds hide the suns yellow hue,
No more liquid dressed blues,
For the orcher partners cast out this winters doom.
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