Prisms and Pomegranates

A p p L E S falling from a basket where a sapphire tunic catches the color of the sea, prisms from her teardrops slice the happiness from me, turning rainbows into oil slick churning colors round and round tambourines and pomegranates, making love without a sound. Bathing in the fragrant fountains at the base of waterfalls we are shadows in the mountains Love primieval rise and fall. May the turtledove be silent let the eagle cease to fly, ere we dare to break the circle of our passion you and I.