The glasshouse waits, across the garden,
unassuming in the foliage.
Arched windows beckon us inside:
“Bring forth your love,
here, once again”.
Our love in spring was tightly wound:
alone, together, bound to wait.
But time locked-in relaxed those threads;
freed us to grow -
The spring of us rolled into summer.
Days of longing have unfurled,
new details of our love
while we waited to rejoin the world.
Behold us, like anemones:
we opened up between these walls.
Outside they fought the enemy,
while more in love
we dared to fall.
We kept on growing, bold as tulips!
Our hair like wild grass, left uncut.
A canopy of blossom burst,
while we stayed ‘just us’.
Now open up those doors and diaries;
and behold the size, and strength —
the power — of this partnership
to live, and love
at any length.
Out of the shadows, through the palms;
before their eyes, we’ll shine our light.
I’ll walk with you, shrowded in Ammi,
through the moon gate
on our wedding night.
Read a conversation about this collaboration between Amy Knight (poet) and Rebecca Marsala (florist).