lends itself
to any time of year.
Listening to garden music
I watch a cloudless sky
filled with cotton wool memories.
Tomorrow I will wake
to a perfect summer day,
will try to box you
and take you
moving through my life
to new houses of happiness.
This is my goodbye to you,
long, plain, dry,
No more of you
will grow inside me
like a wild vine.
You will be a rock
in red sand
far away
from the green place I belong.