Poetry

 

Persephone

It’s coming again

with the October

mist, the last roses

of the year

those feelings — 

fear and shame

learnt at too early 

an age

as the damp earth

swallows you up

you may forget —

but once 

you’ve seen

you can’t unsee

*******

Persephone II

« Where to belong ? »,

she asked 

trying to smooth her dress

with eager hands.

« Don’t even know the

nostalgia, the kind of bridge 

we could reach on ».

Her body kept moving

with her no longer noticing,

as her soft, weary 

voice was fading away.

« I thought one day 

I'd come to rest.

I’ve always come to lose ».