The queen of my life,
She graces the garden dressed in green and flowers.
It’s her habit before life,
Life in the girl is mine,
Not by my blood,
But by right.
Who owns it is not mine to know.
Like expectations can be disappointments waiting,
Not tangy like green mango
But sweet and aromatic and painful.
Scent triggers memories and they are all we have.
Arabella whispers to the daisies,
These are the secret things she will not tell me.
She has a hidden room and I do not have the right key,
But she still comes to me anyway,
Her hair smelling of mango and flowers.
We lay together,
She shares with me the whisperings that are mine,
And I feel the new spring growth in her belly in tiny pushes.
I long for the day it will come,
And Arabella will show it the flowers.
They will share the secrets that are not mine,
But together we will share memories.