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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471666" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Underneath The Sycamore</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The glacial mist shrouding the eve<br>Cradles the redolence of your reveries<br>Prematurely ripen from a hungry vie<br>To keep time at bay and life a chance<br>In your statuesque grace blooms<br>A dream in the day, a comfort to lay<br>And we were so close in a distant way<br>But for the jeopardy of truth and cliché<br>This transatlanticism is for your decay</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Every now and then as time tramples<br>When cicatrix sighs and sunlight halts<br>I get so alone, flat and hollow, <br>Despite of the truancies, I'm still amidst<br>The enthralls of the moon's harlequinade<br>And its servile and vivid orbs at cay<br>I would be lured to saunter back <br>Our winding roads and jagged paths<br>And halt beneath the sycamore<br>Where we met clad with liminalities<br>And donned by the amities<br>That afflicts in a trifling volley, <br>Then I have neglected to see<br>The malignance of your entanglement <br>In the cobwebbed branches<br>With all the sojourned predicaments<br>You were a craftsman unconsciously<br>Look at what you have had on me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In its shade, there is company<br>Distracting me from the mendacity<br>Of the moon's phosphorescent bloom<br>And sating my voraciousness eagerly<br>With double-edged memories<br>In the lovely silver boughs are the blossoms<br>Photographs painted in crimson and purple hues<br>With farcical smiles verily enraptured<br>Now pierce in an esoteric puncture<br>With its thorns concealed in comely sedation—<br>Cancer strikes like a serpent without a hiss<br>A blitzkrieg of another death's kiss; <br>And the epistles and riddling tales<br>Passed onto each other's escritoire<br>Linger here in the leaves rustling<br>With the secrets buried in the scripts<br>And the traces of evasive glacial rivulets<br>But then you have found the clandestine door<br>Clasped inside the hallowed burl<br>And key slumbering on the floor<br>And now you are one of them: <br>The susurrations underneath the sycamore</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here haunts the phantoms<br>Of silent weeps and mourns<br>For quibbling truths and so as for<br>The very core of apathetic walls<br>Inside, a ball where we only know<br>Where I believe, only we knew<br>Underneath the sycamore<br>A soul meets a soul, lost<br>But already on its way<br>Perhaps, towards oblivion<br>A demise for my heart of carrion</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yonder below croons a song<br>A pulsation, a compulsion<br>An eccentric taste for a reaction<br>Clinging onto earth with the roots<br>Of the young yet steadfast sycamore<br>Engraved with the phantasmagorias<br>And prayers never to be spoke of<br>To finally meet the consummate defeat<br>And bleed for the coup de grace<br>But in this beguilement I lose<br>Ad I am now again afloat<br>Underneath our sycamore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471666" data-title="Underneath The Sycamore de Norman Santos" data-description="The glacial mist shrouding the eve
Cradles the redolence of your reveries
Prematurely ripen from a hungry vie
To keep time at bay and life a chance
In your statuesque grace blooms
A dream in the day, a comfort to lay
And we were so close in a dist..."></div>
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