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24/05/2014 / jenniferrobsonartist

Poetry

The Garden.

I wrote this in your garden, wearing your flat cap,
thinking we were waiting to be made.

Sometimes, I am a timid flower.
At night in bed, I grow towards you as
even in darkness you are made of pure white light.
I lean like a vine, a fushia tipped daisy, petals open wide.

And when we make love it is the same
as when I stand barefoot in the sea and feel.
I know about cirrus clouds and white horses
because of you. I know the sea lives behind your eyes
as when I look into them I feel the sun shine through.

You bring in the spring green shoots with you,
your steady earthy body, cocooning sunlit warmth.
I lie on your loud heartbeat, comforted as your feet are planted,
you are patient, so I can grow from you.

You knead me like bread, grow me like thyme, tend me like sage,
nurture me like home. Conditions quiet, calm and slow.
Your gentle arms wait for me, give me time to prove,
your calmness lets me rest and breathe.

We tend it like a garden love. We plant our own dear seeds.
For you are now my anchor, my gravitational pull,
you are now my safety, my constant love, my world.

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