Looking For The Red Velvet

Crying, crying, crying,

All throughout the tortured night,

Cuts into my nerves like jagged blades

Of a knife with it’s gripping tunes.

I look for the red velvet

To ring in a sweetness,

But all I hear are the turbulent

Alarms going off inside the vocal

Chords of my elderly grandmother,

When I want to sleep.

A veil of the sandman’s sand drapes

My groggy eyes with sleep;

Yet, sleep doesn’t come my way.

Instead of the melodies of crickets

Ringing thru my ears,

There is only the torturing sound

Of my grandmother crying from

Her aches and pains.

© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015

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