Yellow roses

Yellow roses
In the afternoon
The world dozes
In weary trance
Sunlight springs of diamond bursts
Flashing sabres and flaming swords
Metallic glints the blue asphalt roads.

I'm ready to go now,
Already I'm on the move,
Through the garden path
Of your untimely woes,
The uneasy death of intimacy
Unearned income
That I must release.

Your verandah trellises
Drooping, with yellow roses,
And honey dripping
Gleaned off the golden sun
The afternoon showers
Of false surmise
The crippling cream
Of exposed lies,
That dazzles away
Gold dappled dreams
Like tawny curtains drawn over
Topaz and moonstone
Monstrous eyes
Yellow roses hideous reticence  hide
False stories
Traveller pack your lies.

A soft sense
Of something unsaid
Of some answer lost
In the back drafts
Of Alzheimer mind
Yes we forget
To prevent disease
Remembrance
The sharpest scythe
Of human kind.

Onto the flawed and thorny
Path
Out through the left of
Rust Worn garden gate
One last hubris look
For a sepia photograph
For my insane mind.

What do I see?
Except a bland world
Of yellow roses
On half drawn blinds.

Over and over again
You'll follow me
Unknowingly we bade goodbye
You'll look hard through corners
Of tear laden eyes
The insane curve of
The road of empty lies.

And forever and far away
In my own time capsule
I will see you sway
And dream of lazy
Hazy afternoons
Where all lies have fled
To the trickster moons
Of yesterdays.

And then, time 'tis, to say goodbye
Upon the blood horizon
Of sinking life,
When, I will I think, spy again
Your elegant roses
Immaculate poses
flinching, wary fearful
faces.

Till the end of time
Fearful coquettish
In the light.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017