It was only ever flowers, in a meadow wild
tangled tendril vines, of blue eyed passiflora
caressing stems of blooming heart, delicate dicentra
shining silver in early summer, a pond of silken mirrors
leafy vines of garland rings, nature weaved
perfectly a tranquil scene of bonny swans
float silently amidst fallen petals
soft nests of downy feathers, wispy on the winds
that a woodland summer drifts on