In the Garden of Love

summer-2012-084

A secret garden,

lay hidden through the years,

once entering through the arch,

pushing the brambling bushes aside –

it would seem that you were once here.

The feeling of deja vu,

so very strong,

like the whispering wind,

calling out to you.

Thousands of years before,

in just a moment of time,

it seems like eternity has passed

and time stands still.

Somewhere an unknown bird,

seems to be calling your name

and you follow along –

with the bird’s cheerful twittering.

Following and full of longing,

as if you had done so before,

with the same brilliant smile,

suddenly you stop in surprise,

as you seem to hear,

all of the colorful flowers –

welcoming you back once more.

It must have been a time,

for slow strolling,

hand in hand,

through the moonlight,

when love was new.

Perhaps centuries ago,

in a different time and space.

Sitting there upon the rusted wrought-iron bench,

sharing dreams in the summertime.

Flowery perfume upon the wind,

making your head spin,

memories of a lifetime of love.

Fond memories that bring smiles,

holding up your hand,

against the sun.

Golden rays come spilling through,

golden rays of love and hope

and as you twirl about –

it’s as if you’ve stepped back a thousand years.

Imagining shadow figures,

dancing from moonbeam to moonbeam,

in the nighttime,

when this garden of love,

becomes magical.

To a time when love was so real,

here in the garden of love,

you long to stray once more

and as you quietly close the garden door,

a silvery tear falls

and you know that when,

summer comes to this garden again,

you’ll return once more –

perhaps with a love so true.

 

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About Rasma R

I live in Riga, Latvia. I was born in N.Y.C. Love to write articles and poetry. Instruct people in the English language. Live in the suburbs with my husband Martin and my wonderful cat Sid. I love rock and roll, cooking, reading, poetry and traveling.
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2 Responses to In the Garden of Love

  1. Gardens and love grow naturally together don’t they?

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