Description
~*~
Vermillion ways to look at you,
Between each purest book-end hue
Of a spectrum rich with ways to see,
Yet none of them enough for me;
Shall I take the sanguine red
That pounds its flux within your head?
Or perhaps bright days of tangerine,
That burn you with a gentler sheen?
What of those hornet-coloured times
When thunder smirks behind your eyes?
Or days less lemon, and more lime
That seep out from your jungle mind?
Of course there’s that mist-speckled sage
For a wisdom that surpasses age;
And we dance on jaded verdigris
For those days when you’re as old as me;
Turquoise when your celestial heart,
Soaring, spears the skies apart;
Lapis, when your mind falls deep,
And succumbs to cobalt sighs like sleep;
And for every boysenberry night,
When Dionysus spins the world to light,
Your burgundy is brought from rest,
To smoulder, quiet, in your chest;
And each day guides me closer to
Vermillion new ways to look at you
~*~
Written 16th May, 2016
(intentionally held unpublished until 19th May, 2016)
Congratulations on squiggling your way out of some chick's womb seventeen years ago today, Tom . You'll never know how important it is to me that you did.