Violet Tempo
Your wrist was an orchid
mist of wander, jungle scent
kiss of teardrop leaves, ellipse perfect
symmetry,
Thousands of beaches shake, heartbeat of the world
shrugs off the might of mites imperative squawking
talking points only to itself, nothing else is made to be
dialog,
Just a note to omniscient night
crown of jewels, tarnished wonders
placebo rites of word express
every cell a veil of living breath
escaping,
Your hand became a star
Shining deep violet tempo pulse
River veins fed delta banks rising planes
Shape, form, dimension full release
awaiting.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2014-01-29 at 10:51
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