By David Palmer
2-April 2017
Federal Way, Washington
I.
She bears the marks of love, discolored
Shades of purple, yellow green, red fading
Perhaps from sight but ne’er from recalling
Kneeling he pleads, “Forgive me, Dear!” Tired
Now, she does not hear his speech repeated,
All these symbols of synthetic sorrow,
Cyclic anger shall raise welts tomorrow,
He blames her he is so ill-tempered
Why does she stay, accepting this torture?
When friends say “Try not to make him mad;”
Church exhorts, “Patience, and be submissive,”
Who believes and says, “You deserve better?”
Shame on us, we hid our heads denying
Private hells our sisters are enduring.
II.
She bears the marks of love so ravishing
For her new man worships the ground she treads
Praising beauty he sees within the threads
Her glowing eyes reveal to him seeing
Today’s promise he keeps, now believing
Her brow he crowns floral beauty adorns
Constant smile today her face has borne
His queen, she is, over his heart reigning
Every woman’s soul remains a garden
To tend to her a man is truly wise
For she a multitude of colors hide
But blooms her soul for Love which is so ardent
Her joyful soul, exquisite work of art
Each stroke reveals the beauty of her heart.
© 2017 David W. Palmer
Written for #Positively Prompted +Niamh Serendipity in The Dream Scene
Invited by +Niamh Serendipity and +Nasreen Malik – thank you my friends
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