 |
| Love among the flowers |
Lies, lies, lies,
she still lights the dawn.
The world speaks lies,
only the gypsy tells the truth.
We carved our monogram
on the wall of the tiny chapel.
You touch me, I tremble.
First and last, it’s always you
among the flowers 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 yet unborn.
On Saturdays, hand in hand
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
and a pitch-black ribbon
tied to your bedroom window.
No comments:
Post a Comment