A red sky,
dissolves in blue
the sun’s hue
turns to a dripped nectar.
The leaves do not wither,
The soil is never dry.
The air smells like
someone I knew,
It was a dream,
too good to be true.
Eden
A red sky,
dissolves in blue
the sun’s hue
turns to a dripped nectar.
The leaves do not wither,
The soil is never dry.
The air smells like
someone I knew,
It was a dream,
too good to be true.
Writings to Heaven 
Love the rhyme here! Nice work!
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