Eve

ORIGINAL
SUN

"It’s only a fetus…
Could never complete us,
There are no
Absolutes!"

Said woman to man,
With shallow broad pan,
Sifting gravel
She hoped would bear fruits.

"Gravel to gold
Now that we can hold
But a fetus, no room,
Must abort,

For riches in hand
Aren't easy to land
A fetus...
No time to consort."

But fetus, she'll reason,
"Is nice when in season."
And will choose to allow
Birth when done.

For women of power
Are Eves in their hour…
Nothing new under
Original sun!