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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471632" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Blame The Air</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=471632" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This air does not only hold your fragrance<br>That I dangerously yearn for, like a candle light<br>In this pool of kerosene I soused my heart<br>It holds the petrichor, the semicide breaths, <br>A faint streak of puissant hope, <br>A sanguinary stench of a fray, <br>Tobacco scents and licorice, <br>A cry of war, a song of plea, <br>A hefty drapery of confusion; <br>For now I suck on these withered buds<br>Fixing a daunted lion poise<br>And breathing the oppressed air<br>To live in deaths, until<br>The atmosphere can cradle<br>The resurrection of what was<br>Blaming a shapeless enemy.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a></strong></div>

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