Winding Its Way Backwards… - Poem by Mark Heathcote
In my heart, I have a flower
It’s scented. Have you not seen it?
Have you not yet—found that bower?
Not pricked one forefinger on it.
It, lies beside a stream, winding
It’s way backwards, to a garden,
Said one-time, to be called Eden.
Love, I’m not just eulogizing…
Find that bower, follow its scent.
Right to the flower’s heart, still rent
On loving you, it’s a serpent.
That’s fanged but lovingly verdant.
Bitten you’re emitted, a death
So, enigmatic the world pales
And like a honey-bee beneath
-Sepals amassing nectar bales...
You shall find the first flower, borne
Somewhere withstood the gaze of love.
You might think this flower lowborn
Found, there’s nothing sweeter above.
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