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Staring at the painting in the corner of the garden |
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I remember being here with you |
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Underneath a woven roof |
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Of latticed wood and ivy |
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and the hissing summer leaves |
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I was twelve and you thirteen |
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We called this place kissing tree |
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Remember how we found them |
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the painting of the angels? |
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They were put out for the garbage man |
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With folded wings and holding hands |
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And in a darkened corner of |
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A garden by the sea |
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We made for them a canopy |
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Of latticed wood and summer leaves |
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Kissing tree... |
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Resting in the feeling of my hand inside the Earth |
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And I see ghosts inside the greenery |
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Endless shifting scenery |
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Of dancing light upon the rising shadows on the leaves |
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I remember vividly the angels and the kissing tree |
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On the day we found them, the painting of the angels |
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There was broken glass along the shore |
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From the rains the night before |
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And in your mother's garden as |
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we lay upon the leaves... |
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I was twelve and you thirteen |
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Underneath the kissing tree |
|
Kissing tree... |
|
Staring at the painting in the corner of the garden |
|
I remember being here with you |
|
Underneath a woven roof |
|
Of latticed wood and ivy |
|
and the hissing summer leaves |
|
I remember vividly |
|
The angels and the kissing tree |
