Poetry final project
I walk through the garden
The garden, stained with night
The garden, painted with flowers
Dizzy with scents harsh and sweet.
In this place I am alone.
In this place I mourn.
For love long-lost I mourn.
Picture my love in the garden.
Feeling so very alone
Swaddled in the vastness of night
Remembering times that were sweet
When life was all wrapped in flowers.
Daisies and violets the flowers
Given by the love I now mourn
I treasured them, called them sweet
Gathered by him from this garden.
Stolen, and given, under the night.
When we were never alone.
He is gone, I am alone.
At my feet, wilted flowers.
Daylight shines; I see only night.
Others have joy; still I mourn.
I tread the paths in the garden
Sour tastes overwhelming the sweet.
Lovers, childlike, see only sweet.
Adults lap up the bitter, alone.
As children we played in the garden.
As children, we sniffed at the flowers.
Grown, we come to the garden to mourn.
We stroll in it only at night.
When he came to me in the night
I believed things were again sweet.
Is it that, or him, that I mourn?
I ponder this, walking alone.
I ponder this, cursing the flowers
As I visit, again, the garden.
For night is the time when we mourn
Hopes, once sweet, now faded as old flowers
Wailing, alone, in the garden.