Sting
She sat in the woven chairA nest of sorts, she sat, sorting thoughts
Her earrings dangling, casting light back to the sun
He watched her, both contemplating
She, her desire to fly
Him, his desire for her sparkle
He came closer, drawn in by threads of light
She looked up, shielding her eyes
Grand wings, lofty in flight
She became intranced, a statue in the garden
He brushed her cheek with ebony feathers
Before plucking her earring,
That is the sting of love
Comments (2)
The ivory with the grace,
The willingness to take the sudden sting,
Her tears that form the shower,
His dominance in place,
The interplay that makes the union sing!