Springtime Dream

So quiet and still, in the dark little work winter room where a small lamp is lit;
In quiet conversation the toil is gentle and prodigious, and gentle grey rain upon the
Sturdy roof softens season's reminders of icy Sleep.

I dreamed a springlit, tulip-brightened burst, there, tonight, my Love,
And closed my eyes to lay among it, nestling quietly amongst the perfumed stems:
I, some great bird with gentle tulip eggs, and we two, laughing,
"Springtime snails", you said, "Leaving a beauteous trail" - a gentle, bulb-burst, loving trail -
Of paint-brushed Art with Living things:

First, all curled and golden; scarlet lip and hearted; deep fuschia at days's end, morphed into violet, too;
And as the gleaming rays dipped tiredly, finally
The deepest royal-hued sky - each one -
Blending with the petal hearts, and dropped in an ordered, neat strewn path,
To tell a story of travelled love, inviting -
Breathless, buoyed, and brilliant we's
To relive us, in other Times and
Mad, Moving, More-Love
Moments,
Remembered.