Citrus Blossomed Mornings…

Standard

lemon blossoms

a tempest doused sun
sits outside on cloudy armchairs,
drying limp,blond locks
in the rain-kissed breeze,
watching innocence splash
in puddles to splatter mud on
faint echoes of rain-song
reverberating as violin strains
resounding even after
versicolor epilogue of rainbows
hung on horizon’s threshold.

citrus blossoms sigh
psalms on cerise pedestal of dawn,
whispered lines of poetry
breathed into a silent draft,
caress drowsy eyelids of slumber
like petal-soft touch
of elusive daydreams,
pouring into harshness tortured ears
as soothing,honeyed symphonies.

naked feet on dewy grass,
imbibe ambrosia of nature’s embrace
as nostrils inhale deep breaths
of scented zephyr,
and inquisitive sunbeams sneak
through raven strands
weaving a halo for her face,
enhancing sparkle of her smile.

picking night jasmine
as testimonies of hymeneals
of daylight and moon-sheen at ughten,
she captures withered lemon flowers
in curious palms
breathing in citric fragrance,
but these piquant flowers
like the laughter of snowflakes
are not suitable for temple’s pedestal,
destined to be momentarily sniffed
and forgotten on dewy grass blades
like shattered dreams…

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