Leaves Of Three

Leaves of three, let it be.
Hairy vine, no friend of mine.
Raggy rope, don’t be a dope!
One, two, three? Don’t touch me.
Berries white, run in fright.
Berries white, danger in sight.
Longer middle stem,
Stay away from them.
Red leaflets in the spring,
It’s a dangerous thing.
Side leaflets like mittens,
Will itch like the dickens.
If butterflies land there,
Don’t put your hand there.

That was a time in the past when things were. Was it? Yes. Perhaps. There was death with a kiss. Forgotten time. Passion. Life. The ever after. Ha! Forgotten truth. Children play, loss of innocence, hatred was there. Quietly lurking in the thicket. Waiting. Watching. Where did they go? Poison souls.

Kiss me with death, with life, with eternity. Smother me in lost spiritual identity with a mask of incredulity. Look for meaning elsewhere, elsewhen. Just words.

Happily she crawls through fields of glass. Flowers crowning her like the death masks of Mycenae. Poison fills her veins like the pain of the rain that fills her eyes. Inspiration drips from her fingers, searing his back with rage.

At last the never is reached. Found. Lost. Regained. Paradise is poison, ever changed, ever lost, ever sought and fought for. But yesterday was here tomorrow and ever shall be. Estranged.

Can you find it? Can you feel it? Did you capture and reveal it? Flows like a river through forever. Their soul is your lie.

If you found it here you did better than me.

Leaves of three, let it be.

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Ian Sharman
Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.
Ian Sharman

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