splendid poems

I Remember     Blood is crimson, So are the roses…   Yesterday the flames were igniting, But today they are out cold, It is the reason he upholds; A pallid face, Damp frozen lips, Like a faded rose.   Yesterday the blood was rushing, In his veins, And he was alive, Living a life.   Today memories only gush, In his mind, As if they were only, The matter of time.   He is dire, Burning on the flame, Of ninth January embers, Still a part of him remembers, The day of his sins.   The day she was gone, And he was left alone. Still he wants redemption, For his evil intentions.   While wandering, In a spring day, his eyes gazed, And were amazed, At an anonymous persona;   Shimmering and glimmering, Every step she took, his concern grew, As it could be her.   From a distance he recognized, It was her, Appearing out of nowhere, Like an angel from the h...