she writes of shadows that she has seen
and dreams of lies that she has told
yet when all around her petals flutter down
she sighs with unfettered joy
and lets slip her purest passions
for neither darkest nights
nor brightest fires
can sap that which was not hers to own
a branch broken
and ancient foundation riven
and she breathes deep
knowing that she is known
and she sees stars and oceans singing
for that love she has been given
oh smell the roses and jasmine my love!
and muse on the truths that you enfold
scribble of beauty on which you lean
a small pastry upon the plate
upon that sturdy oaken table
and a cup of coffee steaming
how perfectly do they go together