Narcissus

Her shadow is a mist of fragrance
Bunched in a cluster of Narcissus
Her sighs are impressionist of pale memories
Wilted under an eternal sunshine

She slightly lays
With creaking sound of her curving sublimity
And strokes my vision with pale florals

The flames of her celestial gaze
Illumine in bloom of sepia spring
Her musings in listening to rhythm of soul of earth
Is trail of quiescent dreams

Slipped in nooks of her cracked soul,
Course of dreams bends
On edges of her smoky shores
And dries behind in receding rays
In midst of a crimson sunset
In clouds that her eyes behold.