Peonies of poesy

Peonies of poesy
acting as a parasol
from the scorching heat of reality.
Amaltas dreams pepping through
gossamer veils.
Emotional myalgia,
somnolent hours,
a sudden bazooka of rainbow syllables
shot through the syntax of memory.
Sunflower renditions,
The wind in her hair.
She wanted a bougainvillea
I gave her dreams
chiseled out of my bones,
Epitaphs of proclivity,
sands of time.
A glass window and
Autumn sauntering on my lacerated bosom.
Ballistic oxymoron
Seeping through leaked rhymes.
The world is but a granule of sand
seeping fast through my fingers.
The mountains echoed luminous ballads
on starry nights.
Mist-wreathed hilltops hummed verdant dreams
As October bid goodbye
wrapped in a silken thread of memory.
Clouds waltzed in front of my window.
The turf is filled with leftover poems
that fell prey to the sands of time.
I bit the side of the moon and kept the rest for dinner.
My poems lay tired like the old armchair.
They gave me a weary smile.
The smell of dreams percolated my senses;
gestured me with a happy articulation.
Life is a conundrum
but we must move on
Shaking off problems like the little girl shaking off the sand from her sandal.