Deep in a shady glen
Hidden from the world
Neath a fence woven
Of wisteria dripping
It's purple blossoms
Like grapes to the soul.
An respite from service
And the secretary's gaze,
Here where rules are mote
And gold is the color
Which paints the fallen trees
With yellow jesamine vines.
Grateful for the reprive
From the deeds to be done
Humbled by the beauty
Here in this sanctuary
Where talent does not paint
The pictures so beautiful
And cumshaw is not needed
To find inner peace.
So escape from the world
Run off with me
Let your terse words
Be put far behind you,
Come take a trip
In the garden glen.

Laura R
3-30-03