meet me under the willow tree
you and i will be faraway hillsides
where hands fit into perfect folds
and youth knows quivering lips
i will dress you in wreathed tiaras
you will strip me into autumns
here the sun slants perpetually
in glances and breaths restorative
to a love shared contextually
unburdened of conditions pejorative
neither request nor command,
a declarative imperative
our collective directive
we will float together in this garden
and let the remainder to its struggles