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Oct 2021
And a rib was pulled from a side,
Soon was molded to be his Lover:
Tiny whispers calling beautiful bride,
Now with my hand so soft and bare,
I tend to land, 'these grounds of heart.'

Lay down my eyes, hoping now to see,
The widest eyes, lookers of everything:
'O, stop looking for perfect fish of the Sea'
Rubbing salt in a wound, that won't heal.

All we are; are two skies far apart,
Longing to be one being and in flesh,
A piece self trading into your heart:
Love was first made, we came second.

Children all of our Adam and Eve,
The seeds of a garden forgotten:
But even as I don't see my paradise,
Darling you'll always be my Eden.
Odd Odyssey Poet
Written by
Odd Odyssey Poet  24/M/Zimbabwe
(24/M/Zimbabwe)   
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