Wood Carving Benches Do You Like This Poem?

Do you like this poem? - wood carving benches

Please forgive
Because I know no words
Big and smart
To decorate and to hide

I wear a cross
It is not gold
But I carved
Park Bank

Neath Robles, sleep
The leaves are my leaves
My ceiling is smooth
Luna's mother smiled at me

When Jay came to call
To Whisper, I wake up
For me, no fire alarm
I kiss the morning of the

In the deserted streets
Neath hidden herbs
A birth Hatch
Join me in there?