From the cascading blossoms of time,
Rose a symphony of vanishing light.
An orchestra of flames that do not burn,
Shadows shift with the moonless night.
The ocean of melancholia, a nacreous play,
Shorter than dusk, yet longer than day.
Poisoned necrosis, petals in the breeze,
Half-folded, half-twisted, chiaroscuro leaves.
A wisteria of lies, trembling in defeat,
Raindrops embroidered on glass so neat.
A solstice, a cure for the broken heart,
Settling with rigor, a mellifluous start.
And so and so on, goes the rhyme,
Using creative metaphors as old as time.
Painting the vivid imagery through a phrase,
A landscape of words, vision can't erase.