Drunk on Love
Love drove me away from myself,
then at last,
it took me to a garden,
where I could be the roots of beauty.
For so long I fought shadows and reflections,
the innkeeper of my drunken mind
slept behind the bar,
his loud snoring eventually woke me up,
There in that place
She appeared,
as a clearly painted picture
of love made flesh.
She descended then
to kiss
my wretchedness.
A cage door flew open,
doves escaped.
What kind of doves?
They were as white as Her wrists,
yet delicately veined
with blue rivulets.
Within them
the pulse of a constant love
gently beat the hearts
of all those
too sober to love Her.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment