Sandra

I met you, Sandra on a bumpy road when I was strolling through a field of poetry. Was passing and surrounded by much muffled laughter, while flowers swayed and luscious corn stood watching. I had my eyes on daisies, lonesome near the hedges and some did smile at me, downcast their lovely petals. Was their a beckoning from well within the trees? This was a land to me, built by some clever strangers and I had wondered what the greeting would be like, so soon the beauty had to yield its shine to evil, which seems to lurk wherever man does dare to tread. And, as all parasite it strives to take its share, become a saprophyte of sanguine persuasion. And there you were, half hidden in the shade of one of God's most precious Eucalyptus trees. So deep in thought, clear eyes just looking into skies you were creating in that innermost of minds, and then you blinked, I caught the very second. Your gaze then briefly swept across those waves of colours and then it held as if by forces of a nature that called time out and asked all plants to hold their breaths. That's how we met - of course I'm talking only spirits, which really are the minds of our precious souls. And in its way there is a juggernaut reality, I must explain my undenied infatuation. There were the quirks, of course, hilarious to some, which shall remain behind blackberry bushes, from inside which, having thus created and dispatched deep thoughts of poetry and human intuition, softly emerge. There were the thorns, so pointed, piercing early squabbles and there were promises unkept, concerning time. Well, if you put together, at ten thousand miles a grumpy Kraut with a dog-loving Southern Belle, you must expect and harvest sparks from close encounters to find their twinkling way into our works of art. So, as I close this reportage of two good souls, who met so deep in space that time had been suspended. I sent a rose of favourite colours to your heart, do take good care of her, she's only meant for you.