Stars Of Clarity
I still reminisce when it was raining incessantly at 3:55 a.m. in the nascent ticks of time on a wistful wednesday. My skin felt the spark of crying hail and maybe, the snow-storms melted too quickly upon my silenced lips that night. As seconds slowly slipped away like salted teardrops, I recognised how my saviour's silhouette has always risen above and pulsated squishy waves of cleansing with her swarovski wings. In hoaxed hours, when my soul is drenched in weeping sycamore's sadness, I have always felt the soft brushing away of dried textures from my palette of forlorn feelings. Dwelling between forsaken moments, I became that imperfect paper in memory on which she draws coral constellations with crayons of sherbet-smeared hope. Like an armored angel beneath the smile of this sun's kin, a lachrymose gold-washed sunflower, her face was the only vision that kept this conscience alive inspite of my numbed flesh. Perhaps, I became an insomniac poppy during that twilight, who was missing being smothered by her addictive halo who could distinguish her from black rose's cold smirks.
I could always count my gossamer manifestations in fleeting seconds within her pixie-touch, shielding me with her aurous lullabies like waterlily's velveteen breeze. Slowly dewy eyelashes tickled themselves to sleep, as I wished for her to envelop my spirit in a million sparkles of magick-an enchantment, that can bedazzle dulcet dove-like eyes of the heavens. Praying, if her voice could forever float upon foamy estuaries of saturnine sentiments filled in the valleys that bridged the distance between a motherly crimson aura and a daughter's dreamscape in those befogged days.
That midnight of massacred dandelions brought a rusty tide of realisation where each earthen grain mischievously owned its flavorsome horizons within this blossoming saga of two feminine flowers, bonded in the sunshine's strings of a mother-daughter hue. She became my lavender lifeline once again, that swirls within pearlescent throbs of me, who is her hymnal heartbeat. Her marine perfume pumps empathetic potions within these seashell-shaped stars in my eyes as I breathe her compassionate love in every misty moment, forevermore.
Inseparable
and so pure, an eden's love,
of mother and child
Her feathers sketch me
with white confetti shades in
stars of clarity
She, my rose-healer,
ruling above moonless times,
evermore, a bliss.
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2023
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