Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Fiery Sunset


Why would one ever want to tell a lie?
Why would one ever waste the sunset sky?
Why would one take the last threads of a life?
Why would one dare to make an angel cry?

States in this life are not always easy things to face.
The sky only matters to those who know that heaven shares that space.
One’s needs may foreshadow the loosing of one’s grace.
Tears are nothing if one never has to see their trace.