A Garden Path

A Garden Path

Should I awaken by her side
to you then I must confide
that if it be of a day so clear
and she stands beside me near
it will be a special day for me
a day, a wish to forever be.

I imagine then we take a walk
down a lonely garden path.
Hand in hand we softly talk.

A walking path made for two,
grass yet wet with morning dew,
and nearby sounds of bird song
where all is right, nothing wrong.

A light breeze up from the lake
to freshen up this walk we take,
against her gown gently pressed
to reveal her form so caressed
by a fine fabric gossamer thin
causing in me a feeling to begin
to which I must say, not yet
more of this feeling still to get.

And we pause by a scented shrub
against her warmth to gently rub.
Then a single flower she does take
on the garden path to the lake.

And from her hand
should the flower drop
beside the path we would stop.

And by me the flower fetched
and then with deliberate care
to place it carefully in her hair.

Of the cause I had no way to know
if it was the scent of her or the flower
by some token it was to overpower
so that I swooned and almost fell
but then I knew it was that feeling
the one put away but now could tell
had returned with gathered strength
ushered on by her intoxicating scent.

But this I must stop before too late,
to save for another time
when from her to me
she opens wide her garden gate.

John Mullinax (date unknown)