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Onion
My love is an onion naked and white
Peeled back from itself
Into it's selves
It conceals many lives
My love is the layer upon layer
The years in which we grew
Slowly and in perfect symmetry
Up from that first shoot
Anchored in the earth of first passion
sculpted in time into one clear white orb
Invincible
immeasurable
The depth and breadth of you and I
Knitted in silkness of flesh and form
And at that first touch
The first severing of ties
A parting sorrow
brings a rivulet of tears to thy celestial eye
Twixt pain and joy,
True love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem
by
Yvette Smith
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