Vines Fantasy

Our Garden Dream

My heart lived in a forest of dark,
Till the dawn of lark,' I saw etches of dreams I lost and kept,
Till my body wanted what I wept,
I needed my bountiful of nesselrode,
To wrap me around my heart of weavers weave,
The camping of me and you,
Is our love that darkened our greenery brew,
I love you dear...but only here,
I my garden of green sheer,
See you in jungles Jewel,
And Ill kiss you like a fool.

Fantasia Here

The fantasia came to me near nights eve of dawn,
The gails of my gown were sewn upon,
To just taste the fluttered scrolls of things in my head,
What a place to be instead,
Do you ever feel fantasia real,
When you taste her as the envelope you seal,
I wake every morning to the white room,
To know I will see my eyes see fantasia soon,
Its the vines in ebonies garden,
The echoes in me to love them,
Of the grace,
In my dreamers lace,
So wipe that smirk on your face,
I am in my fantasy place.

My thoughts:

A life in a dream can be expressed as a sanctaury, a garden perhaps. It leaves you with the question; why did I ever leave Kansas? I like my garden..whenever I get to visit of course. Let vines grow till there is no more room to move.


Short Poem:

Dying Gardens

When the life of it is gone,
Where will we be,
No longer our garden to see,
Our love will die...along the garden weed,

The thorns will prick you till you bleed happiness.