The Garden

The garden

Overgrown.

Thistles choked the

Flowers that once bloomed.

Their spikes

Stabbing at those that

Try to help.

Shadows that fall over the trees

Wilting their leaves

Dropping them down.

They land

In heaps of death

Showing their empty

Strength.

Grass that grows high

Over all.

Winding

Twisting towards the

Sky.

Weeping willows

Their death heavy

Branches hang gravely

With defeat.

Stones that malignantly

Wait for those

Unwilling to see them,

To come and

Stab heavily into

Their bare skin.

Weeds that wind

Around the delicate

Red roses

Strangling the deep

Ruby color from the lips.

The thorn weaken

Darken

And fall

No longer the protector.

The garden

Long overgrown

Waits for somebody to care

And make it beautiful

Once again.

Reviews

[Riley Mistwood]

absolutely loved it

[Brielle Cartny]

I can think of so many worldly things this could connect to. I like how it is so open and the imagery is great. I picture dark tendrils cascading over the greenery.

[Andrea]

Your imagery is beautiful and paints a lovely, yet sad, setting. well done. (oh and i love the color change in your poem!)