Persephone's Return Poem by Chris Zachariou

The first day of spring—

purple hyacinths, lilacs and lilies
red carnations on our doorstep
bread, and wine on our table.

At night, she lies on our bed
dressed in white and black lace.
The intimacy of old lovers—
breath to breath, body to body
again, and again and again;

Later I watch her sleep.
A sigh is dancing on her lips
and suddenly I panic.
Doubts and insecurities
are whirling in my mind.

A green mist rises
and the scent of pomegranate fruit
hangs heavy in the air.
I know now she will leave me again.

September is knocking at the door.