Tears

by BOB GALLO   Apr 18, 2021


Sorrow,
soaked and swollen
dangle
on swing of your iris
like spangles.

Rainbows entangled
in this chandelier elations of motions,
these concealed debris of implosion,

these fountains of feeling,
still squealing
to the inner more ceiling,
in the lesion of real meaning,
coiled,
alike the serpentine flute tone
of emotion.

Skies pour so pure,
clouds burst in the thirst of devotion,
thunders commence commotion,
but in end, the only sediment of sentiment
that remains
is my heart
of ocean.

2


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