Untitled

Untitled

There is a soft fog dwelling about you,

Amid the greys and haze, I glimpse your truest colours,

Through saline water blues in a deeper sea of green,

Crystals goblets,

Sorrowful,

Saddest eyes I’ve ever seen

Look to you, settled in the garden you have planted.

 

Your Eden, your Hades, your state of mind dictates the season,

Mother wit, an unknown reason given

just to chide you in a basting fashion,

As you sow the seeds of knowledge with such passion.

 

Sequestered from the common species,

Searching for a place to rest your head

as the subtle autumn changes confine you to your garden’s bed,

So tenderly you slide a searching hand,

Deep beneath the fold that blankets my eternal soul,

I wonder could you find such comfort there?

As we couple in the chamber that I proffer,

How I long for your caress, that silken touch that you may offer.

 

Could you sweep beneath the canopy of everything I long to be,

And relegate my idleness and such?

 

As I watch the weather turning in your garden here before me,

You roll yourself into an orb and hurl yourself at my direction,

Rolling, roaring, thunderous,

So passionate without exception,

Erupting from the knowledge you embrace,

Like sudden cloudburst raining down,

To fall so clearly on my face.

Washing out the sorrow in my eyes,

Filling crystal goblets with the knowledge that my heart desires,

Grateful for the chance to spend my days,

Sharing in your garden, here amid the haze.

© 2009 -Lynn Priestley

 

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