The Garden Seat Poem by james watkin
The Garden Seat
In summer here sit I, shut I
Each door-like lid over its eye;
But retreating thus is found out
By one who so persistent is
Would into another' s dream pry!
Where sat I summer's vestiges
Decay, except those images;
Leaves' demeanours bedim, while stay
Glossy, some cheeks, gleamy, some eyes;
Which love's own time presages.
Friday, July 12, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: dreaming,garden
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4/23/2024 10:57:18 AM # 1.0.0.1119
