… a meadow to guard…
As music in my ears, the wind, across this meadow,
little ponds of blue dreams, water and sky above
blend and flow as a sweet muse, and
here I guard my love with a gentle hand.
My yester dreams spilled and mustered,
rebirthed as green grass and leaves and sheltered
me from boiling, screaming red maze of demons
who lost the strings of love, somewhere in life’s gardens.
The orange-black striped tiger, breathed from wounds,
he grew as part of the blood, guarding my meadows.
The lamb who gathered fallen leaves of muses,
still hesitates and hides behind the bushes.
Undying dreams, borrows colours
from the hair that grows to the river’s
flow, and the green that clads the temple of hope.
The lamb lends its shy wet words, to top.
My orange striped tiger and the shy little lamb,
watches; as I pick flowers, colours
words and smiles,
they rumbles at thorns, as
I make garlands in hope, in adoration,
they watch as I melt into life around.