The pomegranate, 

smooth, gradient colors,

pink, red, and purple, 

emanating like an early morning sky. 

My mother puts them 

in the bag, weighing the bag down, 

her hand drops, bag

almost rips, but didn’t.

The colors reminded me of a winter morning, 

Crisp air, early morning sky, colors 

emanating across the sky, clouds, highlighted, 

my happiness returned. 

As I cut, I remember 

my hands staining, red juices flowing,

the red puddle below  revealed,

my clothes, stained, 

sweet, tangy flavors filling my mouth, 

my teeth, stained red, but 

seed remained, and pomegranate will grow 

again,

like the sunrise.