PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
is where we buried the years six feet below.
all of the magic clung to the tragic
and we knew it was not time yet to go.

but of all the love,
i would not erase a single thing.
all of the memories,
i want to remember everything.

we saw Aphrodite serenade a dove,
and Eve, dripping scarlet nectar from her mouth.
and everything seemed so succulent
even through the drouth.

when we looked into the heaven's eyes,
i saw my own rebirth.
understanding the purity,
fearing its responsibility,
we followed the footsteps
of the first woman on earth.