Creeping Morn

A poem based on the scene prior to Aphrodite and Ares being caught in the act...

To not think of duties

Is a beautiful thing.

When flesh grinds flesh
When no blood is shed,
Such a beautiful lovely thing.

Whispers of love, memories made
By cold sheets on a warm night
Barely met by war on the
Treacherous battlefield of gloom
Such beautiful, lovely, precious things.

Things stolen too quickly
By the brutality of a morning sun
Searching only to scorn. 

Reviews

[Stephanie M]

This is an excellent poem! I really enjoyed it.