The Garden Path
Oh! How lovely
It all smelled
The purple lilacs
The sweet peas
The violets
The petunias
All those
And the scented primrose
‘These are all yours,’
She would often say
With a conviction
Which was so difficult
To ignore
‘Take these
And if you want
I’ll give you more’
And on the
Dirt track
Walked the two of us
Hand in hand
In that wonderful land
Her fragrance
Still distinct
Intoxicating
And I was intoxicated
Till........
The garden path
Abruptly ended
A thorn pricked
Blood oozed
Trickled down
I turned around
Not a sound
She was nowhere
To be found
Left alone among
The flowers
No more scented
They still swayed merrily
As if teasing me
‘If you are so naive
This is the result you see’
The primrose took pity on me
And advised
‘Why be fooled
Why roam
Go back to your family
Your sweet home’
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