Across the balustrade,
In clear view of the sparkling spiral stairway,
On the intricate rug-covered marble floor,
Under the canopy of a house that keeps the stars hidden.
Yonder, dances my beloved beau,
Reveling under the chandelier's glow
This head of mine sways to her soulful rhythm,
Delights in the shine of her eternal beauty.
With a movement so fluid,
She reigns in her waves of grace
For a fleeting moment,
The bridge between our eyes is brought down
She beckons me forward,
Light glinting in those pools.
Hands clasped, heads leaning in,
An embrace that warps time
Hours fly by in seconds' disguise,
Sly smile painting its smug countenance.
A dance that traces circles abound,
Periodical patterns of feet over velvet,
Her lips crusted in the deepest merlot,
Cheeks that put white walls to shame.
Onyx eyes that glisten 'round the edges,
Mother of pearl adorning her symmetrical wedges,
Obsidian curls obscuring her bosom,
Heaven and hell can't keep me in place,
As I venture forth to steal a kiss.
At once with a thundering crash,
Falls apart the stories I built,
These stories of a castle that kept my heart in dark,
As music pauses in grief's wake.
She is cold, oh, she had been so till now,
Plasters peeling off the walls,
Cobwebs and dust decorate the ruin,
As my knees embrace the threadbare rug.
Her hand in mine is a delicate brush,
As my fingers trace her fading blush
Diamonds melt from her eyes' lining,
Oh, my lover, she's come for her last waltz.
Tears open the gate to truth,
My lady's translucent in her lucid glow
An apparition, an angel,
The sign of goodness awaiting beyond life's farewell.
And so she dances away,
As reality takes her place by my side
No longing stares can bridge realms,
Oh, the warmth of her love,
Nearly thaws the cold left in her wake.
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
