Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Ephemeral

The mayflies dance and writhe
In sex and joie de vivre
For just  one day in May
          Foreplay
          Coitus
          Climax
Again and again
Then the silence
Of cold death.

To the gods
Who are immortal
You and I, love,
Are just two Mayflies
Writhing on our bed
For but a day
And then we turn
Back to clay.

                             ©David Cooper  August  13, 2013

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