Her Colour Will Be Autumn, and this is
Prolific her appearance
throughout the Summer sprawl,
grown into her gown
she awakens to a call.
Purest her blue horizon
now mirroring thoughts of red,
kneeling down at the edge
she pours this on her head.
Pondering the profound
her golden rays in the wet
heaving the highlights
her sun begins to set.
Sipping of the water
perched she hangs hinged,
stirring up the sediment
rising up the tinge.
Limerick like toads and lilies turn black
singing in waters - a murky shellac.
Then the serpents reach out
to meet the virgin's cry
pulling her down
the crimson lead sky.
Incisions of splendor
as her claws drag the wall,
these lacerations of light
trail her fall.
Limerick like toads and lilies turn black
singing in waters - a murky shellac.
Lustful incantations
and dreamy deep delights,
loom these shadows
of an indigo night.
And the fig trees' branches
do tear at the skin
enticing her dusk to flow from within.
Limerick like toads and lilies turn black
singing in waters - a murky shellac.
Beneath she slips
a cloak of dank,
the angel fell
eclipsed she sank.
Secretions of singe
and mire of sin,
adulterates her light,
Fall colours blend in.