Garden Walk
Stolidly surveying us
Walking through the sunflowers
A light wind blowing hair askew
(Not too much)
Driving the pall from the pavement
Eyes I fall into
Missing the gardens
Barely hearing your words
Completely feeling your passion
As you stroke
Leaves
(Not too much)
Held up by hope
Arms around my waist and
Chin on my shoulder
You speak of futures,
Directing, driving our dreams
In a moment lost to time. . .
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