Poetry

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She was like a brother,
Nursed at my mother’s breast;
To be like no other,
She was not like the rest.

If I found him outside,
She’d be giving a hug;
In him she would confide,
When lying on a rug.

She would lead him to bring,
In the house of mother;
She who taught me to sing,
Sounding like no other.

She would give you spiced wine,
Juice that tasted so sweet;
As we talked as we dine,
Delicious food to eat.

Her hand under my head,
As the other did embrace;
A woman that has fed,
Make love within this place.

She adjures all daughters,
Not stirred by awaken love;
Pleasures of the waters,
Peace of mind from above.

Aroused love of pleasure,
That excited her heart;
Climaxed to the treasure,
Gives her soul a new start.

Who is that coming up,
Out of the wilderness;
As she sips from her cup,
Her beau for tenderness.

Under the apple tree,
She has awakened him;
Lying down as to be,
So, she would not feel grim.

Many waters quench not,
A love that one can see;
If through God love is sought,
Not even floods could be.

Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer

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