Arctic Afterglow
When the
glacial sun slips
in softened womb
of the scarlet
spheres at dusk,
yearning for
hibernal rebirth
as a lustrous
morning star,
it radiates
golden beams
like lakes of sunshine,
flowing over
chiming starlit bells
in our hazy haven;
and I scrap
frosted flakes
off the bittersweet
pamphlets that
whisper our names
in the misty winds
of 'Us'.
Calming the
coalesced chaos
within my
infernal pulses,
his warmth drapes
this enchanted soul
with daffodil-
smudged days
of hot cocoa amidst
a wintry wonderland.
If I could bloom
like an arctic
afterglow's heart
on bare alpine trees,
I would only
choose him to be
my daylight-
perfumed violet
scent, evermore.
I can never
stroll away
from the shimmering
silverine memory,
when my muse's
trust breathed
hailstorm's poesy in
my solstitial lungs
and kissed the
fractals of a bruised
poet's spirit.
Dreaming of yuletide,
I achingly yearn
to become the
silken apricity of
those soft lyrics
that swing in his
thundersnow thoughts
and frostbitten flesh,
re-writing the jaggery saga
of twin-sanguine-lovers
in beige brushstrokes
of foggy 'We'.
Sometimes,
I forsake to
surrender and
ask for a peaceful
nod from the
'Lord of Soulmates',
can I be the
honeysuckle ink
for my beloved's
watercolor feather,
always nurturing
the snowy twists of
our tale within fate's
untold wisdom?
When I desire
to wander in
black-iced myths of
insatiable agony,
will he become
my bejeweled healer
and fight off those
sombre silhouettes
of Jack Frost's
saudade, like a samurai?
For, I take him
as the gift of
my last wish,
forever inhaling
the chilly secrets
of our lantern-
lives in my
subconscious visions,
that keep me
alive upon
crestfallen sleets
of intuitive icicles;
I want to live forever,
in his pearly eyes' abode,
which coruscates
with glossy lustre
of fireflies and
makes me flutter
my hiemal
white wings like a
spellbound fairy in
grey-orchid sonatas.
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2023
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