Oh Sweet, Sweet Dew
A bed of grass is so mundane
It sways in the winds as the most fickle of things
And yields to the foot of man and beast and bug
It is mowed and sowed on the whim of men
And as i stretch upon this brittle mattress
I am dazzled by the floating skies, the whistling breeze, and my comforting memories
And not this dreary bed of grass
And so love, to me, is like the sweet dew of the morning green
As I lay back upon this nestling bed of grass
It wraps my weary spine in a cool, welcome embrace
And I think not of the dull blue sky, the incessant breeze or my nagging memories
Instead I think how the dampness seeps into my back
And how the cool bed of grass spreads shivers to my every ache
And I breathe a sigh of relief,
All because of this sweet dew on the morning green
© Samir Georges
2010
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