fields of lavender
as far as the eye can see,
in rows of scented purple
growing insatiable idiosyncrasies,
our minds are a rich, deep soil
and the children of our thoughts
run free,

run free
and light,
run free
and careless,
like a river to the sea.

the heart is programmed
to be broken,
to let in the light,
and the earth in us is woken,
our heart will open,
it will open,

when we take in our first
breath of this heaven.

I've never written a limerick.
Thinking of it makes me sick.
Better a sonnet
or a woman upon it.
Maybe, I'll just play with my ****.

Serene, float among green growth,
Buds desire to open, join the flotilla.
Gentle one, you are like the waterlily
Which grow across the surface,
The still surface of my pond.