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lapping at the shore

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  • lapping at the shore

    the garden
    fed by water from Lethe,
    bright with mushrooms
    and dragonflies and
    flashing fish that dart
    below the flat surface.
    the garden
    where wheels spin
    and feet dip in,
    of smiles you feel
    brimming at your lips,
    and harmless snakes,
    and big fat worms
    beneath the grass.
    the garden
    where dance the nymphs,
    and thru the wind
    they carry their voices,
    and over the shoulder
    they throw glances,
    and in the water
    swimming with hope...
    the garden
    which is their home,
    to watch it grow
    and get so close, each
    little seed remembered,
    each fallen leaf
    subsumed unto soil,
    rich with the reds,
    the browns; the blood.
    this garden of love,
    where the curling leaves
    have fire edged,
    and the sunset skies
    marked with fingerprints,
    and the roads unused
    leading us beyond.

    flat as the pavement,
    but growing in the cracks
    o this little garden--
    filled with this voice.

    ...the sound of love
    perfectly made...
    Last edited by amenOra; 06-30-2019, 12:22 PM.
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