She brought back roses
All red in hue,
Splashed with the mourning
Upon the morning,
The sunrise of her tears.
With beauty that leaves reflections
Doused in the earth, without correction,
With long chimes hanging from
The autumnal boughs of naked trees,
Vulnerability is heard
In the sickness she lets loose.
Tears fall upon the red of love,
In the same ease as this season
Engulfed in flames
Some hint of solace yet stirs,
Hanging in the timid gusts of the night.
Some wildness still sparks
As a frequency of remembrance
In her eyes, as she recalls.
Recollections of beauty without cruelty
Of all that falls, as each infant that crawls
To be shapes that drink of the earliest sunset
Such hearts could find of themselves to drown,
To be safe in the embrace.