Violet Shadows Within Purple Dreams
The dry stems of lonesome grape vines of vivacity,
painfully curled and rooted frozen,
entwining the desiccated verdant veins,
sway chilled in the winter wind of desolation.
As the winter departs on the wings of northern winds,
in the harsh whisper of the frozen air
the frost-fastened vines hear,
“wait, you’ll listen the sweet music soon,
don’t despair, the serenading southern breeze
will embrace you with mauve melody”.
The ingrained violet lattice morphs in spring
into a mystical mirror of veracity
with the ingrained sheen of actuality,
reflecting the real rendering of the hued spirit,
rinsed with the suppressed velvet shine
of the distinctive spectral disposition it embodies.
The branches flutter with the emerald wings,
nascent boughs look up with budding fruits to the sun,
draping them with the patina of violet verve.
On the cadenced flow of the joyous zephyr
the lilac luster finds the chromatic course,
trailed by the beguiled butterflies,
flittering on the rhythmic waves of violet rhapsody
in the vineyard of succulent yearning
where the scarlet sky once splashed on you
the elfin hues of longing you‘ve lost.
As your ivory fingers tenderly pluck the grapes
you feel the essence of the violet shadows
you envelop secretly within your purple dreams.
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