Saturday, 12 November 2011

A Whorl of Love

A whorl of Love

A whorl of love,
for my sweet petaled flower.
This poppies tail,
that tells of the hour.

Recounts a sweet tune,
in a rhapsodic haze,
of two loves made whole,
in glorious ways.

Drawn from the hearth,
of dark Morpheus's dream,
and swept to the light,
in a rapturous stream.

Retold in remembrance,
as the curtains unfold,
of fates wind that's blown,
through these fields made of gold.

This head that drooped,
in a breath, split asunder,
seemed like a death,
as it sank and went under.

I glanced for a moment,
back up into the light,
as I drowned in the water,
submerged, without fight.

To find that our fingers,
were locked in embrace,
a heavenly light,
shone from out your sweet face.

Enraptured in blush,
we rose now together,
light as a breeze,
to float like a feather.

For you came with a lightness,
so giddy with joy,
imbued with the grace,
great powers employ.

As if some great spell,
had magicked you there,
Persephone found;
Demeter's great care.

I scarce can believe,
how we laugh in this light,
when moments before,
death and woe, were our plight.

From whence did you come
my sweet anodyne maid?
faithful and true,
this great love you have saved!

Success, rest and beauty,
are our gifts now to savor,
the alms of remembrance,
reborn in sweet ardor.

For now I recall,
what once was forgot,
that true love arises,
from burnt ashen's lot.

© Richard Michael Parker 2011


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