Hades Crying Into His Soup

Hades cries into a tepid bowl of grey broth,

the flavor and color boiled out of tired vegetables.

The finished stone blocks of his palace walls

weep with him.

The snow and ice encasing the outside,

thawing, condensing, and dripping inside.

The crisp dry winter could not touch him,

but the damp chill of Spring seeps in.

His heavy purple cloak only traps the cold

close to his body and heart.

He feels the absence of Peresphone’s warmth

down to his bones.