Far away on the wall
behind the garden through the trees,
sat a little man
Green in his own little way
as well as the gnomes
+ the grass + the sun
lay a little white lady
lying on the shelf
with a wee pink tornoquay
whatever that might be
was vital and urgent
in its demonstrativity
together with our hands
that were clasped together
our love was growing
+ had been grown
until the bud flowered
+ out grew a shoot
which flowed from the pen
of a long forgotten master
of the wind + the rain
all the stains of winter
were gone, + still,
I sat in the room
+ took in the scene
my loves pain had blossomed
into a difficult strain
until the end was due to come
+ then it was all gone
my great blue cloud
of grey + white + green.