Glasnost
The day we met, you wore red boots.
Somehow beyond the painted lipstick frame
I sensed then knew the softness of your smile.
Untended embers burst as one to flame,
For weeks the sunrise hues did but beguile.
As East met West, the blush fresh on the face,
The uncorked Merlot added fragrant scent.
For one warm loop of scarlet knicker lace,
All walls would be brought down, all nations rent.
With flesh, we scorned the prejudice The Sun
Had screamed in crimson masthead bigotry.
Summer was endless, spring had just begun,
But bloodshot eyes betray the symmetry.
The sunset clause was not to be denied.
My roses, in their plastic wrap, had died.
The day you left, you wore red boots.
The day we met, you wore red boots.
Somehow beyond the painted lipstick frame
I sensed then knew the softness of your smile.
Untended embers burst as one to flame,
For weeks the sunrise hues did but beguile.
As East met West, the blush fresh on the face,
The uncorked Merlot added fragrant scent.
For one warm loop of scarlet knicker lace,
All walls would be brought down, all nations rent.
With flesh, we scorned the prejudice The Sun
Had screamed in crimson masthead bigotry.
Summer was endless, spring had just begun,
But bloodshot eyes betray the symmetry.
The sunset clause was not to be denied.
My roses, in their plastic wrap, had died.
The day you left, you wore red boots.
1 comment:
ach, kanikoski, this is too sad, she had the red boots on when you met, and she had the red boots on when she left, these are the details that can stab, even years later . . .
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