Adam (Tree Of Life)

Tree of wine in
passion's early glare,
not forthcoming of dawn,
engorges fevered veins.
The coolness waits
among seedless worries,
in sorrow's early light,
beam of the Moon's flight.
Adam, dreaming,
sees a child aloft
piercing the apple of his cheek
where the woman groans.
She, in morning's blood
soaks the sweet clay
under the tree of life,
burning in the mists of day.
(a non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
Author's Note
Written for the 'When Dark Doves Fly' comp
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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