Queen

From my white garden seat, sounds come without end, take a while to release, secrets like lemon seed, blow ravaged on the bends, they recall whispered feelings, when lovers trick or treat, my perfume used to extend, to whiskey downed neat, living by a swollen creek, my prayers are all sent, a gun lies next to me, I'm no lolling cheat, what better cure than friends, who set you all at ease, bathed in wine or yeast, to my door is where they wend, to measure out my beans, no public retreats, let's this place offend, down fields of blue wheat, we reach for heaven.