Garden of Poetry

Stand beneath the rosen arbor tonight,
Harbored in a sanctuary of love,
Within a lattice of silver moonlight,
And bask in ardor showered from above.
Out beyond the sleeping grass, shadows drape
Branches barren and bereft of bird song,
To the weeping gaze void of will or shape –
Shades of gray which divide not right from wrong.
Yet, safe in the bosom of affection
You bide in the fold of this sacred place,
In the embrace of scattered reflection
Of purest love proffered no other space.
For strong is the structure framed by the heart,
That hate cannot mar nor time tear apart.

~ Daniel F Mitchell