Lo, the lady walks in my heart’s garden:

lo, the lady walks in my heart’s garden:
my lady in a spring garden in the morning
tall the trees casting shadows about her
as the last shades of night dissolve into dawning.

lo, she wears a new love flickering,
one lone spark in the embers of a distant fire;
small yet on dry tinder feeding:
and the tall trees recall a thousand decembers.

by a brook stands my lady, hair flowing
free, dark memories washed away by sleeping:
her dreams the colour of tall trees in autumn,
tall trees weeping.

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