Our GardenI will always remember the dream I had of Portland.
The twinkle in your eyes made everything else seem unimportant.
I kissed the flower from the park behind our tree house.
I was the one who seemed so new in my own playground.
You always touch the tulip with such readiness.
The roses scream for they crave being next.
The light glistens on your cheek and the oleander changes its point of view.
My lilacs, being friendly, vow to always favor you.
You were the first to pick the ripe fruits of this garden.
No other woman was truly allowed inside.
The scent of tangerine mocks any remaining melancholy.
The sweet thought of here begins to harden.
You were the first to bathe in these waters.
The gentle waves sweep me into your tide.
I fall asleep in your eyes, for every time I look I seem to fall.
When I am clothed in the dark locks of my maiden's hair, I no longer want to hide.
When I am alone I slip into our garden. I know she will soon met me there.
For when life becomes too hard to fathom,