Name Of Love

THE GARDEN

That long summer
the grasses rose like sighs
as soft voices mingled
new growth and old ease.

Amongst the autumn colours
we danced brighter, bolder
than we’d ever been
heralding our return.

Even in contained winter
the paths seemed straight
and true - led to the certainty
of your well-lit hearth.

But spring turned cruel
your gate is locked, my dreams
grow wild inside our garden
planted, tended, neglected
in the name of love.