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The Crimson Sunset Arising Over The Wind-Swept Moor
No harmful or irksome thoughts
stir this mind to absolute madness,
and away from annoying, frequent sounds:
only peacefulness soothes irritated senses;
I may fall asleep and dream
in a state of false reality,
letting the fanciest fantasy
enter the bloodstream!
The crimson sunset arising over the wind-swept moor
alleviates the mood of daily woes such as this murmur;
the torrid day, unlikely a dry desert, gives into a cool breeze:
nothing is heard above and under but the shrilling of a geese!
All the joyous smiles flashed by others were missed by me,
and the craving was stuck into my throat unable to spit it out
and feel the relief I needed to carry me through a painless night;
firebugs aren't pretty butterflies, they glow and suddenly flee!
Copyright ©
Andrew Crisci
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