Love is not like the mother's womb, <br />where we dwell awhile and in peace sleep, <br />only to depart at the ninth moon. <br /> <br />It is like the grave, the stony tomb, <br />that imprisons our bones forever in its' iron grip. <br />Love is not like the mother's womb. <br /> <br />Little ones on dark night, see not the cruel goon, <br />who with silence rage, into the lustful heart does slip. <br />Only to depart at the ninth moon. <br /> <br />Foolish men who frolicked with the pleasant doom, <br />and learn, too late, the waning infautation they do keep. <br />Love is not like the mother's womb. <br /> <br />Wild rose, in spring rain, flourish and bloom, <br />with huge meandering roots, it dares the hades deep. <br />Only to depart at the ninth moon. <br /> <br />Pretty lady, fair as the bright noon, <br />make hay, hasten me not to fix the missing rib. <br />Love is not like the mother's womb, <br />only to depart at the ninth moon.<br /><br />okoye charles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-is-not-like-the-mother-s-womb/
