YOUR VOICE IN THE DESERT
PICKING FRESH PETALS
Daniel Ionita, 13 February 2013
I stumbled in your garden late last night
The gate ajar, was welcoming, though shy
From blooming buds, beneath the starry height
I picked fresh petals, soft and crimson sigh.
Your velvet eyes, I see as in some dream
From doorway dark, tears bidding me to stay.
Today, I wish I stayed, and stemmed their stream;
Instead, I ache for petals, far away.