It's a sestina. About astral pirates.
It lit skies like a splash of maraschino cherry,
surging blossoming flames into the magic black.
It's almost as if the tumblers wrapped around the key,
clicking like solar gears and calling out 'never'.
It's like dusky ships with twilit pirates,
longing for one last drop of sun.
Always ended up on rooftop edges, staring down the sun,
eyes caught in the last of a blazing cherry,
world bathed in gold like maven pirates,
watching waves of luscious flushed sol push back the black.
Some afternoons I'd shout to the skies 'never'
and go bounding forth as if I had the key.
Opening blackballed doors with a stolen key,
bursting through in pursuit of a dying sun.
Voices screeched, crying out 'never'
racing into red, chasing after cherry.
At some time, they all just fade to black;
leaving the prize to the dusk blanket pirates.
After tomorrow like wanderlusted, stardusted pirates,
launching through the cosmic with their captain as key.
Hurling glimmering helms into pitch black,
Gilded oculars trained on a beating sun.
Edges of galaxies dyed million shades of cherry;
With corsairs crying out 'never have I ever'.
Has our astral desperado lost his nerve? Never.
A searing core of the final frontier, gripped in the claws of pirates.
His head, hair, and heart enveloped in gushing cherry.
For once, a treasure without need for a key;
he's captured the crimson moon, the alluring sun.
The world has lost the night, blacker than black.
The balmy flare washes away from the bottomless black,
the world sees light nevermore.
With his prize in tow, a shimmering sun,
the world feels the impulse of grinning pirates.
He has no need for a lock and key.
There is no one brave enough to steal the skies' cherry.
No one would take the sun again, and wish the world black.
Taking a maraschino cherry from the skies, running, stopping never.
There are none braver than space pirates, chasing treasure with no key.