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’