Red

How good were those times when we were stupid,

Those nights when we were intoxicated by Cupid,
One who calms down the fluttering morning dove,
One who kindles and elicits the feeling called love.

Cupid loved youth and spent time working on me,
Sending me into impromptu poetry with a glee.
Ahh, the good old days when he rekindled the fire,
Kept me warm throughout the day using his lyre.

The cold wind of adulthood tickled the flames,
Cupid had gone off to places with no names.
The fire was put out and white smoke ensued,
It died in the rain of instincts, primal and lewd.

Time passed by,
Ashes flew by,
Seasons of lust,
Memories’ dust.

A calm cold night under a clear sky, 
Amidst darkness that made light shy,
In the long lost ashes by the riverbed,
There was a faint glow in a tinge of red.