Wild garlic on the hill.
wild, wild garlic.
All that milky stars
and those tiny blue bells,
blue like the sky at dawn,
waving a sparkling carpet
between the gnarled old trees.
It makes me feel free like
a dreaming beauty, living
in an ancient fairytale.
But my eyes are wide open
And there is no dream at all.
So my heart stands still.
wild, wild garlic,
wild garlic on the hill.

© g.m.auth