fences and thorns

i settled, earlier, with quietness

even when thorns pricked as i picked
the flowers, or at times the fallen petals
capturing in my mind the beauty

and the fragrance making self, my heart

to leap and dance to the beat, the music
you write with your constant dance;
but a perpetual pricking of the thicket

and the endless bleeding of my hand and feet

makes me wonder whether i have strayed
away from your garden into a cacti jungle
or is it that you resent my love to jingle

with your beauty and fragrance

in flowers considering it a pilfering
from the garden you are jealously guarding
with fences and thorns that prick!

henry victor     05.06.2002