In This Tacit Realm of Crimson Sky
In this tacit realm of crimson sky
where the winds inebriate with
a cloyed saturnalia adrift your breaths
I wallowed, wearing my shoes like
a silent stone skipping a pond
and every step, and every ripple
I shatter unbeknownst of the things
that abjures my puppet strings
in this tacit realm of crimson sky
In this tacit realm of crimson sky
the winter would remain sly
tethered to its autumn boudoir
so I muse upon the field of stones
and graves of flightless flesh
amongst its stellar descries
and whilst you blossom without me
I gorge myself in the saccharine cries
in this tacit real of crimson sky
In this tacit realm of crimson sky
I nurtured my brittle spine
and waxed my shy lacquer
rooted in the epistemological reasons
of the irrational aberrations of the heart
and now the vermillion palette devours
the vertical line raising you horizons -
what had become to my home
in this tacit realm of crimson sky?
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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