Third Hour - Poetry

Light played with the waters,
Bouncing away,
Into oblivion,
Right away from everyone.

Red in color,
Nothing great and yet,
Simply elegant,
For the turn to the other end.

Pure covers on the stand,
To stay free of all,
Sipping on hot refresh solution,
Worshiping at the feet.

Blurred vision,
Distorting the truth,
Not quite,
For that is to be believed,
Or wanted to be,
Yet might be the truth nevertheless.

Prayers for that dream,
To come true,
To bring rains into the field,
For all the death to fade away.

Photo by Stephan Mahlke on Unsplash