Scarlet lips done in roses. She kisses
the sun goodnight, leaving crimson
smears on the horizon.
She ties black orchids to her ebony
curls; copper-colored hands weaving
redolence into midnight gold.
The night holds her close. She caresses
the leaves and play in
shadows that move like smoke.
Her amber eyes catch moonlight like
glowing drops of honey. The tears from her
eyes always the sweetest.
Operatic tones held in drifting
petals; zephyr notes from her
soothing voice played by trees.
The sun lights a bonfire on the horizon;
she gently kisses the embers
and recedes like the tides.
Fire drains into blue light.
Orange seeds dot the sky. They look
on and see him kiss her in the morning.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Scarlet lips done in roses. She kisses
the sun goodnight, leaving crimson
smears on the horizon.
She ties black orchids to her ebony
curls; copper-colored hands weaving
redolence into midnight gold.
The night holds her close. She caresses
the leaves and play in
shadows that move like smoke.
Her amber eyes catch moonlight like
glowing drops of honey. The tears from her
eyes always the sweetest.
Operatic tones held in drifting
petals; zephyr notes from her
soothing voice played by trees.
The sun lights a bonfire on the horizon;
she gently kisses the embers
and recedes like the tides.
Fire drains into blue light.
Orange seeds dot the sky. They look
on and see him kiss her in the morning.
