Not a carnation, or burnished dove
I offer you, paramour, a garlic clove
It’s a new moon that shines at night.
Battling splinter cuts, and common
It will soothe as though seraphic fire
as shimmering aspen’s foliage sleeps
It’ll make ground beef a scrumptious
Not candied floss, or a chocolate box.
I offer you my paramour, garlic clove
Its pungent taste will remain on your
lips, unchanging and resolute.
Here. Like love it’s a growing garland
looks beautiful even when it’s broken
and crushed. Its scent, will stay upon
your breath, remind you of adherence
Even as you plod amid snow and sleet.
Photo credits: Pinterest
(For my debut prompt)
Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads