Pomegranate Thoughts

He strives: she flames. The two are indomitable. Something
Moved a mountain; and summer sprouted wings. She bowed
With such grace; and lied with such wit. My pomegranate
Ache: a catlike beauty; and never our tongues; and ever our
Souls. We nurture secrets, and sculpture dreams: a pearl-like
Tablet: and so many wounds. Our dolphin hearts, stalk the
Night; and coconut—our spirits. She spoke of yams, an
Eloquent trope; and softest souls, die the kiln. Such almond
Brown, a woman’s smile; and pageant tears, a moment keen.
We fret opal plum; and swim teal green. Every pain, an art;
And every joy—suspicion. Indeed, a jaded lot; and water
Blue, a pure illusion. I speak of visions: my realist love. She
Speaks of facts: a world of numbers. A misty rose, drew a vow;
And sugar cane, a woman’s grin.