Love, Like the Arils In a Pomegranate

Love, like a pomegranate can be bitter sweet. Its tang lingers long after laughter swells. The soul puckers pleasantly with each bite. A luscious love, precious and unique, thrives. Life’s enchantment surrounds sweet-tart living, Likened to the whitest pulp around twirls of tasty arils. The future surrounds a delicious serving of dreams. Where seeds of friendship are consumed in sweetness. The pomegranate willfully waits, wanting to be devoured. Wildly proclaiming ecstasy since the butterflies’ first visit. Fabulous fantasies frolic from first inklings to forever. Reality rushes its rivers of waters roaring through rapture. And springs forth this rare exotic fruit, ripe, raw and savored. Budding beautiful love, which sings songs and satisfies longings. Lively and luscious, unconsumed love triumphs over lust. Spiritual passions simmer in life’s sizzling heat. Tasting, like believing in enchantment, brightens beginnings. Waiting awakening, flavors life like spicy pomegranate seeds. Delightful daydreams dance upon the redness of love’s peel. And reality races to anticipation’s castle in the sky… imaginings ravishing. Faith hopes that happiness hovers where respect and honors hold. Perfection placed where enchantment becomes reality and fears forget. Love’s season is savored more deeply and sincerely as lovers learn. That beneath the hard peelings in life, sweetness grows, everlastingly. © August 22, 2010 Dane Smith-Johnsen