Garden Dream Poem #1

You wave to me from the center of a

large rose garden,

labyrinth paths all

lead to you.

I make my way tentatively

over cobblestone,

the scent of honeysuckle thick in my nose.

You call out directions,

pass me a blindfold

through thorns.

“It’s better,” you say,

“if you don’t try to see.”

I follow the sugared scent,

stumbling,

groping,

remembering.

There was a time

before politics, pandemic, and

school shootings,

that this was all

easier,

we slept with the the garden gate

open,

and the sweet hopeful

scent

led the way.