Matters Of Love

The gates of my garden are left open to wanderers

They say I’m too friendly and I shouldn’t be so trusting

and that matters of love are a waste of time

But that just isn’t me

The roses have died and bloomed

dried out

been over watered and pruned too early

But come spring they show their rosey pink cheeks

as if none of those things

ever mattered.

-Saschia Johnson

 

 

New England Cafes