Is this the garden of the gods, a place of perfect peace where at the end of every day - in Morpheus’ arms release- soft twilight beckons gentle sleep, so does my soul lie down, in sweetest slumber of a dream and timeless night I drown. My love, you are that garden’s key, ambrosia you seem, and nectar, all in one you are… You’re gone, ‘t was but a dream.
Disclaimer: picture Substack AI generated
AH! What a sweet dream it was! I love this. It's beautiful. I read it three times.
This is fantastic, Joyce! Your words soothe.