Washed clean of August's sweat
by the frosty dews of november's night
Drool the clouds, leaving the horizon soggy and wet
As the sky sprinkles purple shower to unknown heights
Litters too the candlelit pages of corniferous forest
The berries then break loose their roots
To let them grasp few grains of light
Muse also shudders through the fingers of the shy moon
It gazes for long and long into Autumn's eyes
Draws deep inside its lavender scent
and write word-less verses on the sun-burnt scars of her neck
Paras Ali/2017
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