Calanthe Heights

 

The wind smells sweet at Calanthe Heights

Where the beautiful flower is bred.

As I crest the hill, my breath catches.

The sun has found me once more.

Crystal blue pools of heavenly sky,

Shades of a passionate red,

My heart flutters, my blood races

As I’m caught again by the garden's allure.

Everything seems so much simpler here.

The garden only has eyes for me, 

So I sit and I stare as every piece 

Of my mind stands at attention.

I long to touch the delicate petals,

But I know they would not agree,

So I gaze as the rain tickles their buds

And let my mind indulge in invention.

But my short break is over so quickly.

I somehow convince my legs to stand.

I think once more of Calanthe Heights

Before turning my back towards the hill.

And there isn’t a moral or lesson here,

At least not one that I understand.

For it's not the fault of those beautiful flowers

That absence like madness can kill.