Picture of you...

The icicles
Shone across a molten cyan skyline..
Winter trickling down..
The chords of March.

Slivers of muted butterflies
Resembling a mild panacea,
Of an estranged pause..
Yielded;
To a sketched vignette..
Atop the old yellow leaflet;
Clasped within her eyes.

Nostalgia sprung on high notes..
Winding down mosaic warmth;
Rushing along a feverish brook..
And scented dale;
His song strummed the dusky fog..
Smothered in torrid snow flakes.



This one's for Lorenzo... wrote for him after a long time..