Among the Pomegranates

Outside the city where the pomegranates grow, Where that ocean that gently sweeps my brow, Collides with the rurality of the cows giving milk, In a fusion spring loaded with happiness and silk. My true love comes to me, My sweet blossom of agony, Offering affection and love, Rendering light from above. Leaves that brush up against my dark complexion, Swirl with buzz for life’s energising bright reflection, So active in their encouragement to ponder anew, On distances and hesitations that become only a few. My true love comes to me, My sweet blossom of agony, Offering affection and love, Rendering light from above. Rows and rows suggest the answer to all frowns, Is to inquire with nature and ecology’s ready gowns, Wear them with pride because dignity will at last fall, When reason and truth wade the dark, turmoiled hall. My true love comes to me, My sweet blossom of agony, Offering affection and love, Rendering light from above.