February Poetry Contest - Where We Bloom

Among the flowers,

I feel at home.

When life's just too much

it's here I roam.

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Alone and free with blooms so sweet,

I almost don't hear the sound of feet.

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I jump, for behind me

I see another girl,

her amber eyes nervous

and her dark hair curled.

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She waves to me,

passing over a smile,

and asks if she can

sit here a while.

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I'm tentative to answer,

for this is my place,

but still I move over

and give her some space.

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For hours we sit in

comfortable silence

away from the world

in a field of roses and violets.

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The day turns to dusk as

the sky paints itself red,

and the girl moves to get up

but I tell her to stay instead.

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I've never felt as comfortable as I had with she,

not with man nor woman

but only in her company

I crave to be.

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In a wistful tone,

she denies my request,

she has a husband at home

and going home is best.

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My chest feels heavy but

I nod and bid her farewell,

for how would this angel stay here

when she has a husband with which to dwell.

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Still the next day, she visits

and the day after that,

staying longer and later

each time, to either be quiet or chat.

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The seasons turn as always,

our flowers wilting from cold,

as I watch my heart feels heavy,

but she pulls me into her hold.

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"I won't stop seeing you,

flowers or not,

their view is less important

than meeting you in this spot."

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"But your husband-"

I start, but she brings me closer,

her lips on my forehead and

her hand on my shoulder.

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"Didn't you hear me?"

She asks in a whisper.

"I Like being with you,

plus your a much better listener.

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I've not told you before,

but he is not who I love.

I was forced to betroth him,

pushed to it, shoved.

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He doesn't love me either,

he wanted no wife,

but it was either we marry

or risk our parents' strife!"

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At her confession,

I squeeze her in my arms,

not caring of consequences,

my mind hazy with stars.

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I press a kiss to her lips,

tears staining my cheeks,

how long could she have been

wanting me?

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This is wrong, isn't it?

We are both women.

How can she love me if

I'm driving her to sinning?

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That night, she doesn't go back

but lays in the grass,

as dawn's light

over our bodies will cast.

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This is the beginning,

that is verified,

but one day I hope our relationship

won't be to this meadow confined.

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