With a slight tinge of red.
And yet she rises from within the pyre
Sacred yet joyous, an enigma meant for me,
A curious aura, calms & settles all storms.
She enters this distorted fallacy, knowingly
Her eyes half closed, sparkle with the golden sun
Winds blow away the lines from her brow
Neatly tied strands fall across her face, in rhythm
Her tender steps & soft smile, try to cover for my sins,
that have passed.
Lucky yet undeserving, I disappear into the cloud of gloom,
I drag along.
A glance and I dread the virus I nurture within
Eagerly, I pray to my sanity that slips away
“Bring her back and let me see her again”.
And I do.
© Copyright 2010 streetajay (UN: ajaytawde at Writing.Com).
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