My gardens

He cradled me

not just in his arms

but with his whole body

and his aching  soul.

My head on my chest, 

hand on his heart, 

and feet pushing 

against his toes.

Scarce to find

were pockets of air,

entangled we were 

in matted hair 

Trickling rivers

sought each other to flow,

down to the gardens

yearning to grow. 

Light shone down 

as a new day begun, 

branches they swayed 

in the warmth of the sun. 

My flowers in bloom,

my trees strong and tall,

my love for him,

the river banks our skin.