The clouds an array of colors
Reflecting the coming sunset
And a word is written
As a cut is driven
Deep into the flesh of the forlorn
And a whimper is heard
From the recesses of a corner room
Crimson falling in patter form
Blending in with salty tears
And with sleep the memories fade….

Cena Rose

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memories-234/