D E W

 how fast times past fall became clear as dew on green leaves trembled in the wind rocked, falling from tops, tumbled passed away to the place of origin, color the sky turned white like cotton anxious, "Enough of the tragedy up here" cheering spectators had come back to the silent, closed curtains for grief and self-centered, it's time to spin the loom, kesumba still dripping on threads, as red as blood, but the dew will fade a way to fall back in the orange twilight limit

Agats - Asmat, August 10, 2012