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Poem

In gardens where the wild winds roam,?
Marlaina walks, and love comes home.?
Each step she takes, the blossoms rise—?
Their colours borrowed from her eyes.

She lingers where Gerber Daisies grow,?
With petals soft as evening’s glow.?
They blush in pinks and fiery gold,?
As if they know the hands that hold?
Their fragile stems are warm with fire—?
A gardener, yes—but so much higher.

Chrysanthemums, her autumn muse,?
Speak in whispers lovers use.?
She cups them close, they understand,?
That grace can bloom from her bare hand.?
In every curl of petal tight,?
She finds the shape of love’s own light.

Sunflowers turn, bold in desire,?
To follow her like flame to fire.?
She is their sun, their sacred flame,?
They rise and reach when she speaks their name.?
With golden hearts and lifted heads,?
They dream of lying in her bed.

And in the quiet of her room,?
She lays her heart in Roses’ bloom.?
Red for passion, white for grace,?
Soft reminders of a lover’s face.
?Each thorn and velvet fold she tends,?
As if they were her secret friends.

No man could ever understand?
The way she loves with voice and hand.?
But if he brought her flowers, true—?
Not store-bought stems, but those that grew?
With time and care, with sun and rain—?
He just might win her heart’s domain.

For Marlaina, with her soul so wild,?
Is flower, flame, and dreaming child.?
To love her is to plant and pray,?
And bloom beside her, day by day.

Scott W

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