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Aphrodite

Aphrodite

You do not love, in its entirety.
You are dedicated to variety.

You let your windows up in wintertime,
You don’t mind the icy breeze.
The wind bursts and hurls,
Every frame holding faces
Of the ones you claim to love.

You wait for your Adonis.
You waste time for a dream.
The sands of time trickle,
Not caring that you are now wrinkled
For the ones you claim to love.

You have children that grow up.
You hardly notice their passing.
Their laughs were never loud enough,
To stir your heart and make you forget
About the one you claim to love.

You let your windows up in wintertime.
You forget about the breeze.
The wind dusts the time off your face,
So you may still look beautiful,

For the man that will never come

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