The whole world becoming like planted flowers.
Filled vases on a tabletop.
Blown babies comprised of newly born roses.
From a field of lacy yellowed wheat.
Tumbles of red and green.
Flowers touching flowers.
Intentions of my dream.
There’s an ocean on the table.
A greenhouse there to stay.
The place to savor flavors.
Amongst the happy sounds of day.
Oh, I favor conversation.
Between the firm and soft delights.
The flowers wafting next to me.
Your eyes as deep as night.
Between the setting and the measure.
Sweet descriptions in the air.
Pronouncing love as added seasonings.
You gave while I was there.