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Literature Text
I was April
you, the autumn
like the rustling
song of the chill.
Promenading in the
Hazy nighttime streets
Many a song we slurred
out,
Like some psychedelic
dream.
The rain-washed streets
The orange-eyed lights
Glared down,
as we swirled away.
Then the postcard world
Of printed curtains
And the scent of lavender,
Bougainvillea, lace and the dry heat.
Sweltering under the bluest sky,
I found you…wholly?
Perhaps not.
Made you cry,
Made you choke
on our own memories
of monsoon nights
and the lamp lit eyes
and the kaleidoscopic
images of
waltzes in the dusty rain,
like some psychedelic dream…
you, the autumn
like the rustling
song of the chill.
Promenading in the
Hazy nighttime streets
Many a song we slurred
out,
Like some psychedelic
dream.
The rain-washed streets
The orange-eyed lights
Glared down,
as we swirled away.
Then the postcard world
Of printed curtains
And the scent of lavender,
Bougainvillea, lace and the dry heat.
Sweltering under the bluest sky,
I found you…wholly?
Perhaps not.
Made you cry,
Made you choke
on our own memories
of monsoon nights
and the lamp lit eyes
and the kaleidoscopic
images of
waltzes in the dusty rain,
like some psychedelic dream…
Like a psychedelic dream..
© 2012 - 2024 crazycreepydreams
Comments4
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I like how you break up sentences over more than one line, it give the poem rythm. Did you draw on your own experience for this? I also like the way you describe things as orange-eyed and rain-washed, the hyphen is effective. 