Not content to rule alone
over the legions of dead souls,
you left the Underworld
to find your queen.
Arriving upon the Earth,
you spied a young maiden
picking flowers on the heath.
She was so beautiful
it almost took away your breath.
You gathered her in your arms
and placed her in your chariot,
then charged those deathless steeds
to return to your domain.
In that sunless clime
you wiped the tears from her eyes
and kissed the tender mouth.
Plucking a pomegranate
from the garden’s sacred tree,
you said, “Here, my child,
take and eat.”

[A. C. Hardy is a pharmacist with a passion for literature. His poetry has appeared in various publications, including Kakalak Anthology of Carolina Poets, The Anthology of New England Writers, and ByLine Magazine.]