No plants adorn my windowsill,
And yet my room’s complete
With one who’ll saunter down a hill
In just her stocking feet.
I need no ivy on my shelf
Nor yucca on the floor.
She’s more to me than life itself;
She’s what I’m living for.
No money tree or parlour palm
Could do what she can do:
She fills my heart with peace and calm,
And joy and laugher, too.
And, when I turn and see she’s gone,
Her fragrance lingers on and on.
Photo by Yuri Efremov on Unsplash
