The whispers of Autumn
I long to taste the softness of stardust,
like quivering ink of an artist,
weaving warm colors from maple moonlight;
draped in grief, drenched in evanescent light.
O chrysalis heart, healing in silence,
let whispers of autumn be your guidance,
when black butterflies on dahlias unfold~
death of a muse, carved in cinnamon gold.
There, in the garden of thistles and thorns,
you’ll find the essence of a rose that mourns,
as petals spill bleeding scars of the sky,
while crimson clouds of cocooned crickets sigh.
So listen as the russet reveries~
collide with melancholic memories..
Copyright © Ink Empress | Year Posted 2024
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