Botch

Botch (Fairy) 10/22

Imagine we are in a garden
that our hair is gently folding
in a breeze we cannot feel

And that the sun is autumn rich
orange and everything glows
amber lamps in a dark library

We stay here until a chill
rises from the leaf-covered earth
and the sky is burnt purple

This is why I whisper
in your ear and around you at night
while you are sleeping in our bed

Because us holding hands is like this garden
and it is silly and trite to say so