The mowers have left an uncut patch
where the riders park their bikes in the rack.

I breathe deep nature�s perfume of fresh cut grass
and take your hand in mine. Some say my heart
is too big and my passions too deep
but you navigate the currents of my soul
like a seasoned boatman.
You know where the rough waters are,
where rocks lie hidden beneath the surface,
and you steer through them and make the waters calm.
Lying in the grass and laughing,
looking at clouds drifting on the warm wind,
no words needed to communicate,
a simple respite from a hectic life.
Idyllic love, pastoral scene,
the stuff of poems and love songs.