Your tops on the line hanging down
Swaying gently in the coolness of breeze
The evening comes in its violet gown
Darkening the lawn and the leaves
You turned on the light, it reflects outside
The pot that stands close to the house
Is illuminated most brightly tonight
I see all its rims and the flowers
Are stretching up high, maybe sensing the moon
If it can look out of the cloud
The air spreads magical smells in the bloom
Cicadas are chirping aloud
I think at the end of an August it was,
Last year, when you opened the door
And photoed your garden for me, just because
I asked you the same day, before.
Sandy sat staring down at the cracked photoed frame. Two little smiling princesses playing in the mud. She loves traveling in her dreams, imagining glowing and bickering in Juane's sweet sweet nectar as in the framed photo.
But the hornet came buzzing, bringing forth a reality of pain She knows not if Juane was more of a lime or a bitter leaf With a scorching desire to thwart her lustres and thwack her wounds while she sang a song of purity on the streets. Confusing all with her orange scent and ravishing strides.
How Sandy wished to travel once more
Where Juane could never pierce a dart to her heart, Where she could once again be a smiling princess together with her beloved SISTER Juane.
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