Solace

Your love is like a secret field.

I’m wont to sit alone and ponder,

the pond is lily-crusted, leads to wonder –

my heart grows fonder.

I sit beneath your willow,

hark the many minnows,

give wing to bright sparrow.

I’m left wanting winnow.

I look inside your chest,

a green and pleasant crest,

open as the sea,

it opens inwardly,

then leads to great expanse,

infinite expanse,

where cheap’s the word romance:

love grows unhindered there,

unwatched, unwashed,

except with rain,

sacred cows idly champ

the lush grass of your hair,

a palliative for pain.