Pomegranate Garden
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
Rays of the sun there in yellow red glow,
Grass wilting brown which is fanced by the stone,
Whispers to crickets: »Our time here runs slow.«
Outside the city where the pomegranates throne,
Whistles are born in the shadows they've grown,
Water is scarce and by hot sun consumed,
Pomegranate's taste still to all men is known.
Outside the city where the pomegranates bloomed,
You were and I by our sweet love perfumed,
Problems in city were locked far away,
We were by moment so joyous consumed.
Outside the city where the pomegranates say,
»Moment has passed dear, and she went astray.«
I'm in theirs shadows in warmest July,
Wondering what caused our love to decay.
Outside the city where the pomegranates die,
I'm standing up throwing my youth awry,
Story is shifting to city aglow,
Pomegranate garden I wish you good-by.
Copyright © Peter Rangus | Year Posted 2016
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