Photo by Garreth Paul on Unsplash
Sep. 22, P. comes home ~ be ready
She says she’s never seen the fall
since she entered my noble hall
and became my wondrous queen.
Leaves for her are always green
they do not yellow, nor blaze in red,
so I’ll bring autumn to her instead.
I’ll robe the halls in amber wheat
spread the harvest beneath her feet;
we’ll dance across the ballroom floor
to harvest songs from days of yore.
And from among the deathly shades
I’ll recruit those with edible trades.
Cooks and chefs will prepare a feast,
with a thousand dishes at least!
Warming soups, fragrant tarts, gleaming pears,
roast turkey, and venison to spare,
that pumpkin spice these mortals crave
in endless pies and cakes and bread. She’ll surely rave!
(No pomegranates, she hates the sight,
and won’t take a single bite.)
***
Written for dVerse, where the prompt is to be inspired by the Persephone and Hades myth.
