Cold, cold beauty sings in her mirror
One apple for the lady
Two apples for the man
Three for the love that binds them.
Afraid to step from mortal lands
She, the seed planted by unseen hands
Grows an immortal tree inside her breast
One apple for the left
Two apples for the right
Three for the touch that is their delight.
Along comes passion, incredibly strong
Hold up a mirror to her song
Cold, cold beauty sings to the sun
One apple for the past
Two apples for things to come
Three for the glory of the sun.
About the Creator
Gregory Broadbent
I am 53, live in Melbourne, Australia, with my wife and two teenagers. I work as a counselor and tarot reader in North Melbourne and have been writing poetry and prose for over 35 years.
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Comments (1)
Beautiful crafted poem, thoroughly enjoyed it.