Evening is a shroud,
That covers the plot
Of mellow land allotted for us.
Gladly shared but not divided,
Where our love lies buried,
Deeply rooted, knotted, glorious.
Seeking earth beneath;
It stretches southbound, seeks it’s way underground, for a spring of water.
In order to sustain its stature atop soil,
Supply lovely branch, budding limb.
Over time and distance,
Our love has grown scenic, as refined garden;
Trimmed to art, stately manicured,
Has flown wild to the meadows,
It’s seed reaching distant lands,
Where we always laugh and dream.
Gleam as robust fruit;
Fat-n-plump, in fibrous suits of skin,
Soothing to the eye, precious seed within.
And together we waltz; in the night watches,
As the moon delights gracefully, applauds,
We compose the aubade, to greet the dawn.
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