Fading Photographs
The face of sparkling spring shines
on the convivial tapestry,
spread on the luminous landscape
of the vibrant vivacity of the face,
engraved with the dreaming blue lagoon of eyes
and the lotus petals of luscious lips,
portrayed in the pulsating photograph
of the charming countenance,
desgning the narcissist features of innate pride.
The ordained kaleidoscopic turn
of the timeless wheel of transformation
vacillated the vista of life’s lattice embedded
in the mindscape, mimicking chameleon skin colors
of the ash wasteland or the emerald meadow.
On the journey across desolate desert dunes,
or along the glittering garden path in spring,
my mind’s shutter opened in lightning speed,
capturing the picture of beauty in collage.
The turmoil of time scraped
on the wrinkled photograph,
the spider of winter in twilight hour
weaved the web with endless senile lines.
As the hollow eyes gazed forlornly
at the weathered wasteland,
the lilac lips lost the patina
of the wilted flower’s wasted fervor.
My hedonist psyche refuses to gauge
the grievous grief of loss,
as the face morphs into metaphor for panorama,
sculptured within the snapshot
of untarnished concealed charisma.
The shards of the splintered sky
in the swirling gale of sordid sense,
roll on the dismal waves
of the curled up onyx cloud.
The remnant rays of sanguinity survive still
in the departing flashes of the sinking sun,
fabricate the latent lattice of unframed dream
within the petrified visage,
alive in the fading photograph.
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