honeysuckle vines raptured
with blossoms bursting at the seams
gargantuan purple plum figs
drooping on delicate branches
with aromas of pleasure and sweat
like tousled sheets on bedroom floors

insects crawl on tiny feet
with the smallest winking whiskers
chirps of crickets fill the night sky
pouring into the desperate silence
with sounds of eagerness and delight
like laughter through closed doors

the seeds sink in
with shells cracked open in need
soaked into the wet and hungry soil
pods broken, wasted underneath
with sour dirt between their teeth
like anger between quarreling lovers

feet planted into the cold earth
with roots stuck against the grain
heavy hearted tree trunks
aged and weathered in time
with wrinkled scars of the past
like faded memories of what’s gone

but the sun peeks through
with a hopefulness like never before
and beats down on the pale garden
that time seemed to forget
with lust and light and love
like a brand new start
with someone different