Springs Eternal
love
This flow requires ebb,
absence marked by presence,
cataclysmic love of literature,
your voice still shaping me
into more than Eurydice, songs
of Orpheus in my heart when
Persephone’s ascent is complete,
Hades keeps his fires burning,
banishes winter from the underworld,
allows his love’s camellias to bloom
from their upperworld azalea roots, through earth and rivers, around rocks, finding her essence,
becoming tarragon and pomegranates in his sky.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a subversive weirdo nerd witch who loves rocks. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction may have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
My words are mine. Suggest ai use and get eviscerated.
MA English literature, CofC
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More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Portrait of Matteo
Seventeen-year-old Manny got off a public bus at a busy intersection in downtown Philadelphia. When the bus released its brakes and passed his narrow view, he checked whether the art museum across the street was still there. He had been visiting it every day that week but wondered for a second the veracity of its presence. Now, the spring sun betrayed its gray highlights, giving it a warm glow.
By Paul Aaron Domenick6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
love, love, love Spring has been good to us indeed.