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The sound of his voice, the warmth of his arms;
It feels like home...every time.
He has me like no one,
As he has since our eyes first locked many moons ago.
No matter where we roam, our spirits are bound eternally.
Of Adam's first wife, Lilith, it is told
(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)
That, ere the snake's, her sweet tongue could deceive,
And her enchanted hair was the first gold.
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flower; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth's eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.
COMMENTS
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MindeAdiancaKassia
11:45 Dec 17 2017
Love the poem.
Magdalena
16:20 Dec 17 2017
Thank you. I was really just writing what I felt.