Fire by the Buddleia


It’s the heavy heat
The ripening of summer
That lays even hyper cats
To languish in the shrubbery
And pulls the purple petals
Of Digitalis to blush
It’s then
That I am urged
By an ardent need
So primal I drop my trowel
And stand there
In the dappled sun
I coax the heat
And sultry scent
Like a winding vine
Let it creep up my legs
And down my spine
Let it seep
From the inside out
I slip off a glove
And picture your eyes

There’s a fire burning
In the garden
By the Buddleia

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This entry was posted in Agony and Ecstacy, Gardening, Life, Love, Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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