The swallows swoop to catch a fly,
The finches look, as I walk by.
The fantails hop from twig to twig,
In an endless game of garden tig.
The cattle calmly chew the cud,
And laze around in steamy mud.
The softly breeze that cools the day,
Gives leaves a flutter and boughs a sway.
Of such places, days and times,
Are written many scripts of rhyme.
But there’s a flaw to this perfection,
A missing piece from the collection.
A diamond seen by one alone,
‘Tis only but a clear hard stone.
See it with a lover’s sight,
To appreciate its lustrous light.
Should I search in your direction,
To fill this scene of sheer perfection?
With you to share this garden bliss,
A content, and happy man you’d kiss.
Don’t hesitate to spend some time,
In the garden of your Valentine,
You know quite well, that I would cheer,
To see you soon arriving here.