The Three Marys Poem by Poetheart Morgan

The three Marys made a flowers bed
from macela that is the flower's name

such perfume.....such calm...
coming from straw of once was a bud

~dust of the scent~

to rest the three and to Love too
they lay overcome by hope fatigue

ensuring
that always would be some Mary

~to care~
the macela Bed

Flowers and tiredness

But...once..just once time
one of them sleeps ~ in secret~

on that hill of softness
with a man with a manhood

the second cradles her dreams
at her porch

the third was still catching....in the fields
no knowing nothing

and lands dreams again gives a warm lap
we are in earth..
whispered the wind....shhhhhhhhh

Who deserve the love of that only man?

The Mary that plant, the one that is waiting or the one who makes love.....