On The Brink Of Ecstasy Poem by Raj Yura

on the brink of ecstasy
knowing you will be
a pile of tulips on the
astray path of long miles

I walk the silvery track
lost in thy swelled bosom
as I hear the bells tinkling
from the chimes of far Church
I see the hand of the virgin
picking the mauve paper-roses
they don't smell the scent of flower
but I cherish the parted hair
being emboldened by the shards
of false-flowers

I selectively wear the
colour grey on the wings
and drink the rum on tides
there is a smile on thy face
as if wind is lost in forest
and I choose thy cheeks
reddened more than red wine
to smoothen the buds of
Chardonnay entwined
on the brink of ecstasy