Through the ribs of her eclipsed sunflower,
the yellowed sun was born at the eleventh hour.
Wilting cloud and a wanting earth,
dawn revealed yet a promise scarred.
She secured the flowers in a casual dream,
and laid down her song with a broken seam.
In the thicket of his musky aftertaste,
the rickety waltz…once more redeemed.
Misquote her silence, she talks too much,
And stitch the rainbow, the twilight has smudged.
Waning hope and a waxing moon,
thawing on a weary hummingbird, cursed.
Bail out the yesterday’s tangles… bosom deep,
the fraying moments still summon the promises to keep.
The blood red moon ringing the cigarette smoke,
Bring out the plush China, my unassuming wine is cheap.
* * *
For more of such content follow us on Social Media: