Love Is Just A Flower Basket Full Of Woes Poem by Mark Heathcote

I wanted to be folded-in-your arms
behind protected closed garden walls
a fountain - I'll bend to the wind's breeze
'I summon you to bathe, ' lightning dance.

As I open my heart, you're a hive of bees.
As I look into your sweet brown eyes
I guess I've never felt this so alive.
Shaking down those willow tree leaves,

Carving our names, writing, I love you.
On your olive skin, an unwrinkled rose.
But I guess I guess all love is a fairy tale.
When you've given up poems, prosaic prose
love is just a flower basket full of woes.