Red Tired of Her Blues

Read of red, the rose bloom
In their ire of innocence, plucked too soon
The spread of lament clements the jarred
The letters written but deterred, debarred

Sky flees under the reign of thunder, clouds and rain
Lest spoken out of blur, the traces remain of the dusk
The sowed equal the perished and parched
The hues settle the fare from bank to embark

To their wits undone, lest they leave too far
The mares wild, strong store their brains to jar
Where the minutes have their resolve
Under the pyre they find their songs

The smile squals earth out of salt
The bile that brittles a roman square
How the same fawns awe at the fear
The broken root in their hair

The sink stone passes a farewell
The dew dusts off the perils adjourned
The smoke smatters against a wall
And the rheumatic rejoice at the bolt

The otherscapes are lined by a thin veil on a blue age
Very wary of the scare, the little thumbs line the affair
In their sewn clothes, they fetter, feather the air
Linen apiece, joints embroiled, they have seen the seam sing

To set a stone face against the brisk walk
To fire a sail against the winds pawned
I chatter in numbness
To the jarred, I bear a bone

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017-2018

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