Here Is Where The Heart Is Poem by Effie Yalena Steyn

Anthracite statues in all their well-worn, cheruby goodness, guard our hallowed ground.
The willow tree, old and bowed, its bark like a thousand solid rivers, drags over the grass, so mellow and enticing. Where the leaves have shaded it there is a trace of the morning dew, but we dont mind about suspicious patches on jeans today.
Hand in arm we lie, always that way, like you need a bigger part of me to feel connected.
I feel connected with just your little finger.
Boy, your hair is growing long.
I like it that way.
Reminds me of someone I left behind, someone who didn't make it.
But let us not ponder the past, on an afternoon when everything but the weather is wet, let us float in the sprinklers as they caress our tee-shirts, and ponder nothing but the seconds we lie in.
Don't get up, ignore the rushing masses.
You can catch up, you are bright enough.
Just stay and illuminate my world a little longer.