Love Lies Sleeping
by cricketjeff on July 21, 2011. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
Where a lark sows songs of summer on the passing west born breeze;
Watching swifts and swallows swooping on a hidden insect feast,
Is the tousle headed maiden who has seen my soul released.
There’s a boat moored on the river and a picnic by the bank,
There are glasses filled with sparkles on a slowly rotting plank,
There’s a crowning sun-blessed halo round the head that I adore,
And the gentle sounds of sawing as my maiden starts to snore.
With my lap to make her pillow and the stream to cool her toes,
Are her dreams as soft as duck down or the tickle on her nose?
Will she wake to chase me laughing round this rural scene of bliss,
Or to brush away the grass stem and reward me with a kiss?