In the diagonal hour of the midnight
that morphed into
a tattoo on her back..
I saw a purple rainbow
that faded as the dawn cracked.
The winding trails
that crawled to her..
immersed in the holy water.
Either my resin hard dreams were to be baptised..
or the misty reality was to be slaughtered.
The feral sorcery of her charm
simmering with the magic herbs..
hemmed my tattered misgivings..
the intentions were never misjudged.
The abundance of my pinning heart
and the economies of her presence!
Like the shadow in the daylight
that redeems with a full moon credence.
Like still ripe sepia hues….
of the picture from the yore..
under that ochre autumn tree,
that at the eleventh hour still stands tall.
In the shadow of its vestigial promise,
I brought my sins and carnations…
come love, meet me under the moonlight
when reasons need not oblige a million adaptations!
It is a very precious poem that, it seems, the author knows why she wrote. She has poured precious gems into its soul, and encased it with love.
Thank you for your comment, Ramesh.