Sweet Onions
As I cut the sweet onions
the Angel whisper's in my ear,
giving me visions
of the one I love.
I know not what it means,
only that it is upon me.
My knife is working on it's own,
I only hold the handle,
slicing and dicing
to the beating of my heart.
My thoughts go beyond today,
to days and mistakes
that I can not fix ever.
Am I a martyr to Romance and Passion,
did I not embrace Love enough ?
I'm sure the Devil whispered in my ear then,
taking me to deserted streets
and cheap motel rooms,
where names matter little at all,
only the money in your pocket.
She was with me,
with the Devil whispering to her,
maybe she the one I Love
showed me how to forget the day
and live just a few minutes at a time.
The smell of the sweet onions
seems to pour into me
bringing a touch of reality back.
The tears they bring
is covering up the real ones.
The Angel grants me
one last look of her face
as I tell the Devil to whisper
to someone else.
Copyright © Mark King | Year Posted 2006
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