a pomegranates kiss

the ghost of me came to sit his hand perched at my shoulder while he silenced my lips his shadows swallowed all that I held dear then I placed a hand to his and looked him cold in the eye the reaper has no place here not yet there is much beauty to see and more art to paint more woods to explore more family moments to smile for Hades visited last night under the stars, though his presence brought tears, this morning the sun bathes me in gratitude had he not visited I would not be here with a better attitude as I write i will remember this the balence of both sadness and bliss for I have given myself a pomogranits kiss