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| Love among the flowers |
Lies, lies, lies.
My Morning Star still lights the dawn.
The world speaks lies.
Only the gypsy knows the truth.
We carved our sunrise song
on the steps of the tiny chapel.
You touch me, I tremble.
First and last, it’s always you
among the flowers that bloom in May.
Our scented little garden
breathes carnations and jasmine
and when night falls,
we lie skin on skin and say welcome
to our child, unborn.
On Saturday nights,
we go to the village cinema
with a swarm of strapping sons
and a daughter with black curls,
beautiful like her mother.
I came past your house today.
It smelled of lavender and basil,
the door was bolted shut
with a pitch-black ribbon
tied to your bedroom window.
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