Crimson

What makes
Tonight's tropical wind so cold
I wonder how the trees will survive


Come and kill me, engulf me
In your wild currents
In you, I have heard, everything melts


You, the one who remains on my dreams
Your beauty; like the dew atop a rose
Your kisses, wet and full with a thousand dreams

This land of masons, of men and women
So simple and true; amongst them
I am but a lost cause


Love has sown its seeds; water and fire
Smiles adorning mouths, full of hope
Bodies, fresh with the drizzles of spring


Crimson, green and pale
What a vivid tale; a kind of a rare solstice
That hides everything, leaving a few colours behind

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Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale