english garden

A quiet wind is not but a

Soft breath whispered from your lips,

Quiet now, quiet now.

Come and whisper close,

I can hear the violets in your eyes, the roses,

The thorns are an after thought…

After tea…

A dew drop, tear drop, rain drop,

Angels are weeping for you, for your nonsensical thoughts,

Keep your heart close in your corset,

Not on your sleeve…

Your knees shake beneath your petticoats,

Tie your blustery hair, so honey and bright, with your ribbons,

Your eyes ablaze with wonderment,

Keep your stars ‘neath your lashes.

Your gentle frame drenched

With others’ sorrow is like a cup and saucer,

Blood drenched Queen Anne’s lace.

Come sit near with

Your bedazzled eyes, magnolia skin,

You are an English garden in a London fog,

Keep your imagination,

Quiet like the breath from your lips.