The Red Tree

'Eve promised her beau that she would bring him red roses each day. a vow kept after life's embrace, as the petals continue to fall, adorning the grave'.

When all the gruffy ravens get silent, the owl howls a story.

Once in an unfrequented forest cemetery,

There was a breathing grave entangled by the roots of a mystic red tree.

How can a grave breathe? Is it witchcraft or a phantom? It was all the villager's spree.

When all the guides of the sea (boats) came back to the docks from their last journey to rest,

When all the swallows and sparrows returned from their restless, hungry flights to their nests,

Every moonlit night, she came with sturdy steps in the forest of death and life.

Shining, thin hair, twisted like threads of silk rope, mocked the moonlight.

Teeny, scrawny hands clutched those velvety red petals with all their might.

Face as oddly unnerved as a sea without tides,

For a promise joining two fingers like crossing roads meeting as one, 

Two flickering shadows by the Lake of Lilies, soft breezes tempesting to make them appear as one,

Angry at those long shadows, the moon followed her like a mad lover.

Showering them in a million hues, it made the moon flowers bloom and the sea tides tower.

"My Eve, today is hard when you leave to come, but tomorrow is unbearable when you come to leave."

"Without you, the sunsets hate me, the sunflowers mourn, and the pink skies tease."

Last, the maiden came to the grave, wherein slept her long-lost lover with those red velvety roses.

Fingers cold but fearless around the burnt dagger edges,

Blood dripped like the last exhausted paint drops dribbled on tainted pages.

And for an eternal promise, a sapling of a red tree sprouted with those velvety red roses.