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To Pretend to Be Mortal

Aphrodite and Anchises

By KBPublished 5 months ago Updated 5 months ago 1 min read

Floating in on a bed of Gold

Radiance gleaming

From head to toe,


“Could this be true?”

He asks,

“Could it possibly be you?”


The question to her appears

With much worry and doubt

Not sure how to make this clear.


He briskly continues,

“If you are Aphrodite,

I’ll build you a church and pew.”


“I’m sorry, Anchises, I’m not her,”

She goes on,

“No, I am just a mere daughter.”


Unwilling to return blue,

Anchises questions,

“I see…but a daughter of who?”


Hesitatingly Aphrodite speaks,

“A noble family in Phrygia.”

She turns away with rosy cheeks.


Walking closer, he utters,

“I don’t know you, but

I see…I see your colors.”


Anchises lifts her chin,

“You are sparkling silver,

I can see it in your grin…”


“...You sure leave me

With lots of clues. No matter,

As long as we can be.”


“Anchises,” she declares,

“And you, sir, are built with

The comforting fur of lions and bears.”

artlove poems

About the Creator


A snippet of life. Some real, some not. Thanks for reading!


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