Lady of the Garden

Sunken eyes
Darkened hollows
Of pocked poured concrete
Stare stoicly, sadly
With unblinking defiance
Knowing, she is
The prized possession
In her Master's garden

Nature's twilight
Pepper's madly with fire
And life against the thick
Somber air of silence
That permeates
Near the once smooth
Sculpted cast
Of youth and innocence

Privileged guests
Sip and stroll
Methodically
Past her pedestal
Instictively
Casting a glance
Towards the stark
Solitary figure

And still
She listens
To their spontaneous
Simple observations
Hoping
Yet knowing
They have no idea
She can hear
Their every word