crimson lioness

crimson lioness

 

she leaves the train as an orchard apple;

red shoes, unscathed, hung from sleek

pale wind-rhythm limbs.

as she drifts the streets

skyscrapers bow down,

eyes and birds dart about and hymn of her flux,

sidewalks cuddle to the kiss of her color

and all flowers grieve;

ashamed that their seduction does not

rival her bloom.

her arches whisper a crimson sonnet into the air,

and for a smoky moment,

the city seems peaceful,

love lives

and life’s troubles

 are withered afterthoughts.

Reviews

[What happened to simple..]

Damn, you've got a way with words... every line is so calm yet so full, pent up of crimson-sensual imagery. This is great.