The Blind

the blind the gardens stretch their green arms toward the fields like a river passing the torch to the great blue of the ocean. steady now, the hyacinths lean North like an army of men, listening to a young boy and girl speaking of love as if they have found a treasure. it is the first day of Spring to them: the flowers stand, salute the sky and blossom as if undressing, vulnerable but stern. and as the blind dream of what they have never seen, you dream of what you've never allowed yourself to see.