Scarlet

If I whisper that your soul

Is ancient, like

Those thousand Egyptian pyramids,

Do you promise to acknowledge it?

Aren't you those thousand splendid suns which

Bring the Russian winter forest

Toward that?

If analogies come to reality, your eyes would look

As exotic as a Syrian sunset.

How do you meet a medieval romance

In the middle of nowhere?

You look like some unspoken prayer.

If you'd let me breathe motifs

Against your skin, I'd

Craft you a bouquet of poppies

And dahlias.

Don't you taste like lost traditions

And forgotten legends; like

Fingers dipped into extinct

Cultures, and villages

Which are not on the maps?

If I wear your scent around

My wrists like some Mardi Gras bracelet,

Would you

Blush scarlet, all over again?