The Garden, poetry by Lorraine Murtagh at Spillwords.com

The Garden

The Garden

written by: Lorraine Murtagh

 

Going no-where,
content.
Like a warm embrace.
my heart expands,
I am everything and
everything is me.

Clumps of damp soil
fold, marking time.
Taunting sparrows,
fly towards me,
diving back, squawking,
laughing.

In the green,
flowers dance,
flirting enticingly,
stirring desire,
from the insects
they seek.

Breathing in crisp,
pungent fragrant air.
In my embryo setting,
comforting.
I am content,
trapped and free,
in the Garden.

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