Dance Of Dahlias

Sometimes I bathe in the maelstrom
Deep in the cold of the eye
Sometimes in this mausoleum
Color the truth, deify
 
Unlike flora you are thinking
More like a clover of time
Rose is the future filled dreaming
Body with sweetness divine
 
Drowning in drippings of honey
Etchings turned stone gone awry
Pouring like it costs us money
Savor the lows with the high
 
Sometimes I get lost in autumn
I don't believe in goodbyes
Muses distraught now begotten
Patterns that we amplify.