The sky is a poem

The sky is a poem,Painted in vibrant rhyme,It cries in gentle metaphors,That drench me time to time. All its hues are varied moods,In its colors bright and bold,Are underlying similes,And narratives untold. It blushes in crimson allegory,Through sun kissed golden odes,And merges into bleaker nights,And snowy, pallid roads. An embodiment of elegies,It lists to this…

A water lily’s serenade

I sleep in thoseDungeons dark.Shadowed thoughts.Forgotten dreams.Skin paper thin.YetWhen you touch me,With your fingers of gold-The musty mistOf melancholy dies.Darkness cowersUnder your effulgent shine.My skin’s aglowIn your lilac light,Intoxicating, my sun,I your amethyst eyes, In your gentle kiss, is your lover’s rise.

The deafening silence

The Azure overhead, Streaked with wispy smoke, The snow twinkling ever so slight, Beneath the golden cloak. Eyes gleaming glitter, Staring at the sun, Light bouncing off silver strands, Of cobwebs never spun. Little swallows hovering, And flying just away, Engulfed by the mighty vaults, Now specks of caraway. Leaves weaving illusions, Of light and…