Three Shattered Dreams Poem by Adams King

In the inner chamber of my missing rib found, there you lie
With heart of clear crystal as a
new born sky

Unknown to you the disgraceful testament of shame you brought
That turns wax my imperfect innocence
melting into wrath

With a fresh hope of living and dreams of
life you came
By two porters will and hands a moulded
death it became

How could a penniless pocket carve you into a wealthier lord
Or how could a sleepless eyes of no bed
a golden dream afford

Hungrier you were to live in a fruit ripe
not ready to be plucked
With a garden visited but breast by infants
Yet to be sucked

Thrice you dreamt and thrice you
made me sin
For thrice you came and thrice you were
not to be seen

Penniless I was to make you live
but much pennies to sleep you dead
Why in God's name will you choose to lie
in my lady's bed

Now three lifeless cradle I sit to watch
to mock my sinful deeds
Thrice I cried to sleep remembering
the shattered dreams of three little seeds