The Garden

The Garden was written for an amazing woman I met a long time ago. She is someone who captured me the first moment I met her and even a decade later still captivates me, reaching deep into my soul and drawing out the depths of my affections towards her. Yes, this is a poem about love between two women.

A place of perfect bliss, our first parents did give up,
But in their desire for more, they drank from a forbidden cup.

Yet, the garden they dwelt in still exists today,
it's a part of who we are, that we long to give away...
to someone who will appreciate the way in which it's been tended,
and to treasure and care for it as their own with love and affection blended.

My garden awaits my lover, one who has known me for a while,
who seduces me with her piercing eyes and melts me with her smile.

She touches me deep, deep with the fertile garden's ground,
and I open my garden's gates to her, soft, warm and sound.

I bid her to come lay with me, to nestle beneath the shade,
to indulge herself in my delicacies and to lie among the blades.

My fruit is so sweet and tempting, a pleasure for another just as sweet,
and I find myself wanting to explore her garden, her mind and even her feet.

The finest flower which I've tended carefully dwells in the midst of my garden, it's petals damp with dew from heaven,
and I long for my beloved to come enjoy it's fragrance, to savor it as she is driven.

For I've prepared it for her, a tender plant for her only to enjoy,
and it's not like any other plant in my garden and certainly not that of a boy.

My fingers dropped with the fragrance of that flower, from tending it all day long and into the night,
and my lips drip with the finest honey, beckoning her to take a bite.

She feeds upon my lips that are sweeter than that of the comb, as a soft creature within beckons her to play,
so she dives into my garden's ocean for a dip and a warm, wet stay.

Her belly, so soft and firm, yet strong as ivory presses to me, while her hands explore my mountainous peaks, standing tall, proud and free.

The valleys of my garden pool with soft dew and my ground begins to quake,
as her kisses create a trickle, a stream and then a free flowing lake.

I bid her to adore my garden to take it as her very own,
to knit her heart to mine with flesh, and blood, and bone...
to take all of me that I offer her and reap the fruits of my labor,
to bite me, to feed upon me, to taste me and to savor.

Then I call to her to plant a seed, a seed of her love for me,
to plant it in my most fertile soil, this is my one and only plea.

To feel her rake my soft moist soil, with a similar soil that is her own,
to bathe it in the rain drops of her essence creates such a thick, fresh-scented foam.

Her own voice of pleasure cries out for me to hear alone
and then her own garden spills a river inside of me,
filling me, crushing me, pushing her stream deep within me,
as my own river erupts and my consciousness fills with colors from a mind that is blown

Soft silhouettes blend together as one garden is formed from two,
the love that flows between them is like nothing man can do,
and the fruit that springs from both gardens are the sweetest in all the land,
and both I and my lover will partake of that fruit with lips and tongues and outstretched hands.

Misti, you are my lover in view, and my garden is now yours to tend,
all of this came through a very long path that we've traveled from when we were just friends.

So claim me as your own, kiss me and take me in your arms,
you've won my heart with who you are, your beauty and your charm.

I long to please you, fill you with happiness and make you smile,
and I promise to do so patiently with love and not with guile.