Poem – “Displaced as the Petal” – Romanticism – 12/22/2020

How often,
So alike
The storm seeded
Atop your burned,
Scarlet hair,
With your lips
Pressed to the wind,
Favoring droplets,
Keeping to scorn,
Mixing messages with the sails
Scarred by your hurried fingers.

Dust
Becomes red
As the lust
You take away
Through the moon’s aperture,
Where once was a face
Of something to truth,
Where love
Holds a grail to your frozen lips,
Not wasting a single drop
Of a design.

The heat,
The stardom,
The emptiness
Circling about your outcast form
In the wake of moments,
Unrelieved.

You keep your eyes settled,
As the ash,
Curling about your fingers,
Nestling in the sun,
Watered by the moon,
Leaving eternities forgotten.