Mistresses In The Garden Poem by Justin Gildow

It's a cold morning
As I'm walking along in the shire
And the 5 of them gather in the garden
Wearing cloaks and soft gloves

In the garden
A small fire is burning
And smoke from incense burning is wafting in the air

The Terpsichorean Milkmaid
The Rough 'N Tumble Sword Mistress
The Persistant Lovemonger
The Wanton Ale Wench
The Winsome Costerwife

They're well known to many

So they begin to sing
Going from low to high and high to low
The children look on in awe
I smile and pay them attention
Even though my executioner's axe is broken in half
A few more others join me on my left and right side

The mistresses in the garden continue to gently sing through each song
All in perfection
As their voices unite
They conjure up images in my mind
Wrapped around the majesticness that reminds me of ' The Blue Danube '
Their songs are great for today
But I'll remember them fondly when it becomes tonight

As they sing
They acknowledge me
Singing, smiling, and waving
And as it has become time for me to be on my way
I send my adoration to the 5 of them in waves