August 18, 2012
Away over the mountains
in a grove of weeping willows and lavender,
there is a place for us.
Where you will sleep among
the ivy and I among the lyre-flowers,
where waterfalls of pure
crystalline liquid cascade
into glittering, life-giving pools
so you may cleanse your wounds,
where roses' temping thorns
don't pierce your skin,
where I will drape you in crushed red velvet
and call you my queen
in a crown of white lilies,
where you can spread your ivory-feathered wings
and none will be the wiser.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback