Secret Garden 4
Pause for Thought
My love, are you my muse?
Or do I write to amuse myself?
I don’t know any more.
I only know for sure
that every second is precious
here in our secret garden
where we cultivate these creative
moments when the world stands
still and our breathing makes
light of the void within us.
Right side, left side: who cares
what’s dominant when our bodies
are tuned like strings on a lute
and you blend with that blood-
red body space beneath my ribs
until my heart beats to your rhythms,
Princess of Paradise, fair of face.
We must never permit these memories
to fade. All too soon chaos will serve us
its tainted apple, tunneled by surging
worms, dark-serpent heralds fore-
telling death’s angel, the night to come,
and the cold of our ultimate separation.
rogermoorepoet 
Such passion…That has warmed my very cold day here in WI!
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Thanks, Tanya. We have just brought the firewood in, just in case we have a cold night. High winds forecast. I do hope we don’t lose power again. I’ll be reading love poems to keep warm if we do.
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The makings of a beautiful evening!
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And maybe a poem or two …
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So romantic! Until the end when it gets all foreboding. But I suppose that makes those precious moments all the more special. Beautiful!
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We have all experienced those magic moments: the secret is never to forget them and to somehow keep them alive. Fan the coals of that fire, I say: don’t put water on the flames.
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I whole heartedly agree!
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