Cryptic Poem by Phillip Nine Mafunga

There you're, face all covered in shame
As we watched the red taillights of the plane take off
She endured the searing pain of your grin through the clouds
It must've been the clouds in my eyes; it can't be all glory and fame
She cries all the time
Even as she remembers all the rhapsodies of the past
A past veiled in the consciences of the pretentious
Hurting even those, they love

Stand alone, she won't
On the huge shoulders of the mystique, she leans
Even trumpets of a blissful future saturate the air
For it is the moisture in the storm, the harbinger of a harvest
Scary the dark clouds maybe, satisfaction is certain therein
The sun will light up her face
The moon bring forth the sparkle in her eyes once more
For on those huge shoulders of the mystique, she has comfort
12 December 2021