Marriage Night - Poem by Hannah York
Beads of pearls roll down fleshy leaves,
A moment of passion,
And the bud bursts into bloom,
Bright colours weaved into the loom.
Then enters the worker bee,
Smooth and with purpose,
His seed to divulge,
The virgin flower to consume.
Then the pulse of his power,
Ebb and flow,
Comes and goes.
Though love and war unite,
This is death of pure virgin white,
But through sadness and strife,
This baren hill I can now call my wife.
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