Cain

Licentious,
the dew drops fall through.
Promiscuously,
it impinges on the bare skin.
And a few clouds drift apart,
the golden hued Sun oversees through.
Gone are the dew drops,
gleams the skin, like the Harvest's corn.
And, forgotten, is the afternoon,
what remains,
is the wine of the evening,
on a riverside dinner table.
A slow flame of candle,
the eroding wax,
the slight roll of the waves,
the quivering of the forests.
A few more years,
and erased will be everything,
but the smell of the wet pines,
near the Gates of Paradise.

P.S. The poem is in essence dedicated to the Biblical character, Cain who was destined by God to wander forever. And, somewhere, in the middle of his wanderings, he met a beautiful and charming woman, Lilith. I, personally, wrote this after reading the book 'Cain' by Jose Saramago.