This is for paint-chip poetry #29. I decided to try a short retelling of a myth.
She cursed those three pomegranate seeds.
Now caught in dark winter, she wonders
Whose bright idea was it
To let her daughter eat them?
Demeter’s mood is tropical storm, far from warm,
And she feels her precious baby’s
Breath become a frigid frost again.
I like the different train of thought you took with this.
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Really enjoyed this!!! Paint chip poetry looks like a lot of fun.😊
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It is. 🙂 Join in this week, or next!
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