to a gardener

[Guest guest]

The gentle gardener,

Treating poeple like he treats his flowers,

Moving ever so full of care,

As to not disturbe the fragrance of a garden.

 

Large black eyes under a wide brim hat,

That he brought long ago from his tribe,

Sprinkled with dust pollen and dew,

The milk of a Camelia,

Bleeding on the tan of your face.

 

Flowers love gardeners,

Because gardeners love flowers.

By their tender tending care,

Their soft breath,

And the joyful mirth in your eyes.

 

You come to a flower,

Always a little shy,

Trying not to disturb her peace,

You are waiting

For her one wish.

 

You lower your head slightly,

Saluting with concern and wonder,

And as I am watching,

I find myself right in between

The two of you, tender lovers.

 

 

Patricia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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