The Garden of
Oh, in my dreams, if you
had only seen
Over rolling hills, a vision so serene:
A glowing pond with a sunken pool of blue
With warming mist
And lilies sprayed with dew;
Stately lilies of diamond white
Like soldier's vigil rods
Adorned the pool. Oh what I saw,
A garden for the gods.
Birds like pigeons, with feathers pale blue,
And milk-white turtle doves
Perched on the flower's dew.
None were timid but knowing birds
That feared no human fray
That flew with eager measure
In attendance of my stay.
They revelled in a stalwart bliss
That bore no trite facades.
In my dreams, bear no mistakes,
Was a garden for the gods.
© 2005 Brian Christopher
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