Memories fade to susurrus.
Dusk cast shadows rise the temple wall.
Amber skin, maternal fields,
Upon soft abdomen, his ear falls.
Below the peel of empyrean,
fruit of a woman,
brave the man who clings the rind,
But braver he let’s go in time.
Saccharine, she whose taste is closest
to touch the Beloved’s face.
Pressed he hears her oceans howl…
hurling hope upon the waves.
To love a woman thus
is to be born to her
and then to die,
over and over – again.
Upon his brow, lips land
Her winter eyelids close,
falling, falling in the garden.
go the petals of the rose.