Bavarian Valley

In the valley of
deepest despair
Weakened, hurt,
but yet humble
There, I sensed the
scent of your hair
Among the thorns
and rubble I stumbled



At the stroke of
final hours
My body and
soul begging to die
There, searching
along your thigh
Imbibing the nectar of
that most reviving flower

By the gate, I
gracefully surrender
Misty thoughts,
thirsty lips
There, between
pillows so tender
Embracing the
statue of your
Bavarian hips


A Lunde Garden of Eden
Anderson's Lumberyard
copyright © 2004