Enfolds me aptly
A wind runs on my face - a billow of rain.
and I to blunt the cold - a glassy cockle
it is a comely face in my mist, and pain,
and to conflate 'em with glance, in focal..
So it was you, absently, to speak, in mind
was it my drift, a dalliance, but dead,
to go under a snowy quilt, dull and blind,
maybe to stop my messaging, that bled.
I felt, my ebullience was a Naiad's bliss,
expanded in ethereal, nightly backdrops,
her tales brought to me a kind Abyss,
full of caresses, dulcet treats an' nyctalops.
To disinherit this entropy of bluish grip
around my wrist; also diffused in waves,
she ruled my foolish notions ever since,
with an urge to embrace again - in grave.
A spilled flow of Crimson log, my loss,
oblating to empty dreams, I exit lines,
of horizontal destinies in darkened chaos,
her windy tears of solitude, in brines.
So, I open my glassy sails in bridal space
so happy is my heart and beating madly,
a cold wind is blowing, icy on my face,
an open Chaos under me enfolds me aptly.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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