The Cycle

His pestle laden with thyme and sage,

It’s the cycle, done more than once,

No need to sacrifice,

Fire's flames...burning, churning, 

He committed treason to come back to her,

It’s the cycle, done more than twice,

Drums pounding out a rhythm,

The flames casting shadows as they dance.

She alone can wipe away his tears.

It’s the cycle, done more than thrice,

Knowing they'll quench the flames,

Gasping, leaning over the smoldering pyres.

Reviews

[Sharon Kim]

I like the rhythm of this poem- the repetition of the line-It's the cycle, done more than once, more than twice, done more than thrice. This really ties it together and moves it along.
I have a poem called Cycle. It's very different! Your darkness to my light. :) Great work!