It’s Saturday night and I smell your hair
Like the sixteenth of September;
When you traced with a silent stare
The star-studded sky to remember,
Andromeda and her plight of fear
That death would devour her heart so tender.
I see that midnight ocean upon your eyes;
Its thick billows break upon your lashes,
And the still beauty of this night does not disguise –
The fierce fervour of your heart that flashes
Through the raining lies that spell our demise
In grey fumes of hate and ashes.
But I dare cross such tempests to slay
Love’s foe and binding chains I’ll break,
That like Perseus with much merit may
Save you for my own and take
Your gaze from starry dreams, and lay
Upon your lips, a kiss.
Copyright © Omesh Toolsie