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Aborted

28 Apr

The silken soft grass was my bridal bed

The rising mound a pillow for my head

The night sky a bejewelled canopy

When Nature made love to me.

His amorous breath was a fragrant breeze

Whispering through the rustling leaves

Passionate conquest, all barriers torn

My mind fertile, a poem was sown

I nurtured it , deep inside me

Till it clammered aloud to be set free

The birth took long , I bore the pain

But the babe was dead, all my labour in vain!

Yet to blame my lover, there was no cause

Nor was I less ardent in my response

But somewhere in me imperfection lay

With time repaired, perhaps it may.

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Posted by on April 28, 2011 in Poetry

 

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