A garden of roses

How well it came to be
that sunset
at the fount of Eve
dominoes and piccolo's
fell and noted
a garden of roses
circles the tree

Therein trees top
rests a white dove
swathed softened sweet spot
nesting her Young
up there sees squirrels run
hiding a found nut
before it was caught

Out here in the glen
where the pixie pray
fawn dance ever beckoning
moonlight falls spray
their lighten cascades
streams glisten gentle waves
settling rest in zephyr wind