Flowers speak to me in scents. Here is the cheery daisy, there is the gutsy lily.
Regular as clockwork The ease of a routine Then there are other ways The man, not the machine.
My silent dreams lie buried with pirates’ treasurethat once tasted Paris when the stars…
Our garden starts to grow as our love begins to show.Planted as a seed, when we met you and me…
Dark and cold and hard they waitBeauty begs for the better fateIn spring so soft they will not waitWho would dig them up?