Autumn's stillness of scarlet and gold dawn
Burst open and wanders upon the lawn.
A graceful butterfly flutters alone
In the garden's foliage and fruit grown,
Under a spreading tree's playful leaves blown.
A special secret the garden does own.
A fairy in a world of magic fed.
Braided crimson pansies crown her small head,
Waves of chestnut hair, the calming wind spread.
A gown of small green leaves and velvet red
Rose petals, sheer gossamer wings outspread.
A small old gold filigreed Celtic cross
Around her neck, tied in green Irish moss.
A shimmer of awe on its lovely face
In love with nature, a childlike sweet grace.
2/18/2023
When You Follow Your Heart
We might have made love
In the bed of roses: the bed of fragrant flowers
As we consummate the joy of true love: at age sixty
where the pursuit of pleasure: is a taboo subject
where the Irish moss warms our soft lips:
We might have reversed the aging process, because
our bodies become fascinating and seductive: coherently
We might have rattled the monkey cage: like epic lovers growing old
With one thing on our minds: we follow our hearts
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