I will go to the Garden

One soft April morning, I will go to the garden

As in the old days, I will sit on the bench.

I will be a Sibyl, predicting fate, 

Occluding the past to live it in the present.

I will close my heart to the life around,

Ignoring the perfumes, the trills of the finch.

And will spin time on Love's fingers,

Our souls entwined with the rhythm of a shiver.

Before I leave, on the stone bench,

I will leave for you, some spring flowers

That you will take to your world of light

In the name of the sacred bond of an eternal oath.