Often I find myself walking with a gallery of forgotten memories, looming within my mind,
Even so, I find it strange, that these past impressions do not seem to bother me in the slightest,
However, they have always forced me to reminisce greatly, about a certain beauty,
A vixen,… that scorned my heart, whom of which,…given her troublesome ways, I fell madly in love with,
And, for her smile, that bloom as beautiful as any petal belonging to a rose that colored itself pink,
Now, during a summer’s dream,…let’s say on a Sunday, sunbeams would softly shine upon her skin,
While a midday breeze tended to dance with her sundress, and I feeling sunny, would idolize such a star,
Through the hours of a wakeful sunrise, until a somber sunset,
Therefore, repeatedly would she notice me sun-gazing at the brilliancy of her incandescent, sheering light,
What was to fear, I wondered, if love was forever so bright,… and roses bloomed a color perpetually pink?
Oh, but, life can bear excessively an element of cruelty at times, and, one can lose such days,
Although, never has my heart attempted to waver, thus, I guess,… this maybe why I daydream daily of her still,
Perhaps, my soul has been left burning, because her essence, found evermore yearning for her benevolence,
…My, what a presence,…
Thus, be honest, and frankly express an unfulfilled answer unto me,
Would you ever think a man could come to become lost, via, the contemplations of his missing affections?
Say surely, I am not alone, conveying these be-loved, sinful, and yet, alluring complications,
Trudging through, about, and amidst the broken shards…unveiling, a lovely recollection,
Kissing with the white moon’s obsession,
Perfectly placed, herein the night sky’s reflection, thee mimicking projection of her magnanimity,
Giving generously, unto my world…a hope in serendipity, made exquisitely for these gloomy tides,
Forevermore, tied charmingly to her form, made vividly passionate…by the sun-fire inked of her splendor,
Dearest amour, did you ever know that garden roses can bloom a color, as pretty as pink?
And, that my life seems as such…when I think of you dressed in a royal mink,
If only I could hold your hand, in this modern time, when lovers dine with wine,
Staring into each other’s eyes…under the moonlight…speaking simply primitive sighs,…benign,
Would it all be as they frequently sing, that of a moment blissfully known as … “La Vie En Rose,”
Anyhow, day by day, I sit in this Eden, that I stroll forsaken-ly to,… as to wait for the first sight of roses,
For who, but who, knows the next shade of color that they may share,
Pink, red, yellow, or perchance even a navy blue…whatever the shade may it be, may it always remind me of you.
– Ren’ee Verona
Thank you for reading, my anthology “The Night Sky ” is now available for purchase.