It was quite beautiful, it was so green and lush

So full of life and yet life had no bite or coldness to it

There was none of the reality of life, none of the loss or the minor wins that come in our hopes and dreams

There was only perfection, fruit ripened on the wine, home of leave or clay ready to be had

Fire never to be tended and others never to be fought

And maybe that is what is mean to be had orchids of true beauty and tulips and genuine nobility just as we’d had roses of the highest perfection and of Fragrance so sweet that one would find woodland syrups closer to it than the leaves and buds it held so keenly

That is what I had been given in each smile in each laugh in the way that when I told a joke you stated to smile and jumped up and down at one point, how am I to exit the garden when none of its flowers fill me with the joy that your excitement and happiness has?

How can I find a land of beauty or one of milk and honey enticing when I had yet to find one who smiles the way you do or speaks of me like you know me

And perhaps that’s the issue in the garden I am know I am titled I am told of what I am to be but when I meet you and we speak so keenly and true I am not me again I care for others I think of others I even offer kindness I would not to others.

An I to be changed at the feet of something new?

Or am I to be changed at the feet of you.