From the Month of Mary, till the death of fall
Thy purple blood spills out, the soul of mirth
Through bluest thought, fondest recall
You’ll last with me, till the time’s rebirth!
How you overwhelm, the zephyr’s heart
Which wakes thy, million heads from sleep
A fest or a fury, can you tell apart
See the grapes of wrath, love’s raptures reap!
Is it all about, colors’ legerdemain?
That the human eye, can sense and adore
Why skip the souls, who farm their pain
To glorify, love’s labors, galore!
Whose fury feeds, this firestorm
Which makes the heavens, awe and gaze
At the steeped in sin, a stunning swarm
Snaring splendor of the, Lavenders Ablaze!
© 2017 Vikas Chandra