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Description
Should I confess that the fire is dead?
I watched it lose its color, and slowly, it's flame.
I felt the emanating heat lingering from it's bed of fervency,
Slowly withering to the winds of change.

The night was when it was brightly seen,
And in the daytime it seemed to wane,
Now when darkness seems most prevalent,
Everything is turning to gray.

Where should I go from here,
When life lacks its lingering lust?
Where will I find the warmth within,
That has left all traces of memories to dust?

There's not an ember left to spark,
No kindle to redeem the cold ahead,
There won't be a summer breeze remaining,
With winter in it's lingering dread.

I never knew to be burned would feel so cold,
Or to be left alone would surround me with friends,
I never knew I could be color blind,
Until the pigment of our life was fading to ash.

Description
Should I confess that the fire is dead?
I watched it lose its color, and slowly, it's flame.
I felt the emanating heat lingering from it's bed of fervency,
Slowly withering to the winds of change.

The night was when it was brightly seen,
And in the daytime it seemed to wane,
Now when darkness seems most prevalent,
Everything is turning to gray.

Where should I go from here,
When life lacks its lingering lust?
Where will I find the warmth within,
That has left all traces of memories to dust?

There's not an ember left to spark,
No kindle to redeem the cold ahead,
There won't be a summer breeze remaining,
With winter in it's lingering dread.

I never knew to be burned would feel so cold,
Or to be left alone would surround me with friends,
I never knew I could be color blind,
Until the pigment of our life was fading to ash.