More love is in my heart than any
heaven--
Angels, God, and saints--can ever hold.
Though we're apart, I have you in my garden,
Touching you as Time turns into gold.
How could our love long last, to darkness driven,
Except we conjure up our own dear Eden,
With pleasures far more fierce than dreams
foretold.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
