I prefer to tend to my own garden…
©2011 Tyrone Vincent Banks

I know the feel of her warm skin as I touch her.
I know the feel of her body as I hold her close at night.
I crave the taste of her kisses and the feel of her soft lips.
I thrive when she wraps her arms around my waist.
My body has fond memories of her head pressed against my back.

Her warm tears flowed when we were pulled apart;
I would have let her go if it was truly better for her.

She carried me when I couldn’t stand on my own.
Her warm hands that I’ve known for more than two decades.
The touch of her finger tips excite me to no end.
Her stare can still arouse me to no end.
The time that we spend together – so perfect and blessed.
She gives herself to me and I give her my best.
Her stare at times … can frighten the strongest man.
The sound of her speaking to me in English or in her native tongue, reminds me of how fortunate I am to be her choice.
The smell of her hair has always hypnotized me.
The nape of her neck of which I’ve kissed a trillion times or more.
I look into her eyes, warm and brown.

I look at our children – the products of our love.
I look at our life now and how it’s been enriched.

I prefer to tend to my own garden...

The only true love that I’ve owned.
The garden that weeds and invaders can never attack.
Free of baggage, luggage, secrets and lies.

Full of the flowers and love that we planted together.
We will stay in our garden, always and forever…

Impressum

Texte: ©2011 Tyrone Vincent Banks
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.05.2011

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Dedicated to God.