Preparing for harvest
like the fields we've tilled ,
hearts are blooming
in the love we've spilled.
Spread far and wide
like the seeds we've sown,
eternity flourishing
where the garden grows.
Our tulips are nurtured
in the contact of space ,
as they spawn the memory
of their first taste.
Tears are the sound
that happiness composes ,
pitcher collecting
for the abundance of roses.
Every morning
in your vase ,
the kitchen decorated
with bouquets .
Forever lamented into our hearts
like the years that we have etched ,
this love has been the perfect art
that no painter or artist could ever sketch.
Our tulips mature
along with age ,
but they cease to forget
their very first taste.
Spread far and wide
like the seeds we've sown,
eternity flourishing
where the garden grows..
© Copyright 2019 ChristopherErick. All rights reserved.
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