By the Lily Pond

Shimmering light
The lily pond
The music of your eye
The touch of your arm
Your always honey smell.
I love.

Rustling trees in a row,
A wide green lawn;
People stoop to see small flowers.

A snail on the path.
The perfection of the shell.
I believe

Unusually tall dandelions
at the edge of this wood
Wave in the warm west wind.
We smile.

Sitting pen in hand
I wonder what I would have written
In all the letters I’ve not sent you.

Far away on the Ridgeway,
Cars, like ants,
Rush towards the motorway.
They make us laugh.
How green the meadows
How fresh the old trees.

I gaze at you.
I find I am.
It’s mutual.
They call it Love