In This Garden

In This Garden In this garden, the roses have all withered, the sparrows no longer twitter, the day is dark and bitter. In this garden, a rusty gate swings in the wind, a faded pinwheel gently spins, a sad little girl swings within. In this garden, the trees are brown and rotten, the youthful dreams forgotten, and little tears fall often. In this garden, the land lies in dark repose, the stream no longer flows, and little eyes bear pain untold. In this garden-- once, there was beauty here, once, laughter flowed sweet and clear, once, there was vigilance near. © 05/22/2015 – Alesia Leach Written for The Poet’s Shadow – Hosted by Greg Barden