Oh Sweet, Sweet Dew

A bed of grass is so mundane It sways in the winds as the most fickle of things And yields to the foot of man and beast and bug It is mowed and sowed on the whim of men And as i stretch upon this brittle mattress I am dazzled by the floating skies, the whistling breeze, and my comforting memories And not this dreary bed of grass And so love, to me, is like the sweet dew of the morning green As I lay back upon this nestling bed of grass It wraps my weary spine in a cool, welcome embrace And I think not of the dull blue sky, the incessant breeze or my nagging memories Instead I think how the dampness seeps into my back And how the cool bed of grass spreads shivers to my every ache And I breathe a sigh of relief, All because of this sweet dew on the morning green © Samir Georges 2010