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

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