By: Joe Attanasio
We placed a trellis in our yard,
To make a garden all our own.
A place to write our poetry.
A dream shared, heart to heart.
Ivy climbed the trellis,
Flowers grew and blossomed.
Together on the hidden bench.
We scribbled out our prose.
As light faded at dusk,
Eyes forced to leave the pages.
Glancing each other, darkness falling
Creativity transformed to lust.