The Gardener: 55
It was mid-day when you went away.
The sun was strong in the sky.
I had done my work and sat alone on my balcony when you went away.
Fitful gusts came winnowing through the smells of many distant fields.
The doves cooed tireless in the shade, and a bee strayed in my room humming the news of many distant fields.
The village slept in the noonday heat. The road lay deserted.
In sudden fits the rustling of the leaves rose and died.
I glazed at the sky and wove in the blue the letters of a name I had known, while the village slept in the noonday heat.
I had forgotten to braid my hair. The languid breeze played with it upon my cheek.
The river ran unruffled under the shady bank.
The lazy white clouds did not move.
I had forgotten to braid my hair.
It was mid-day when you went away.
The dust of the road was hot and the fields panting.
The doves cooed among the dense leaves.
I was alone in my balcony when you went away.
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