At dawn, warmed by bed
I walk through a garden of words
the one you plant each day
stay a while
inhale the perfume
and from a bed of roses,
pluck a passion flower
to bloom in my heart
where it stays
unchallenged by reality
we dream in words
to say, the unsaid.
a dawn bird
A Shared Space 
Lovely!
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Thanks, Eliza.
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Expresses how I feel and work, well said indeed.
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Glad it resonates, Paul. The compulsion to respond to the word prompt is strong, even if time poor means the work can be naive and unpolished. lol
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Was well said, but yes, time is our issue.
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