Sunday, September 4, 2011

The Garden




We have a garden
a place
of green
and colours not of this world

There are secret spaces here
hidden groves
where one
cannot be seen
unless one chooses
like a leaf
to be uncurled

My lover delves
the soft earth here
he makes things grow
with dirt covered hands
plants a seed,
quenches thirst,
crafts fertile soil
where once was sand

I watch him
toiling
hidden from sight
his senses keen,
he stops
and turns
and I am found
observing

As day meets night
he meets I
on grass as soft
as down
he tastes of soil and of salt

We are growing
and creation
is alight
as if by magic
in this garden our ours

- Anon