but a sanctuary, of honey-coloured stonework where I had Albertine roses hung.
If I had sown a lawn of pennyroyal
would the air have been a balm about your play
and, if I had thought to plant the snow-ball bush
would your small hand have stroked its earth-bound task.
If I had slung a cushioned hammock between
two lilac trees, would you have leaned there
drifting on the blossom of a dream, and,
had I but known to net the wingbreath
of two red butterflies
would ~hey have been your lungs on days when breathing hurt or carned you beyond the crush of pain.