Do I dare let you in
the garden inside me,
The sparrows are dead their tunes left unsung,
Dying waiting to be set free,
In a prison of rusty gates that
never open,
Flowers sacrifice their petals to
time,
The wind stealing them greedily
the only one that sings in this
shrouded wilderness
Kept sacred in the essence no longer
living,
The gates are open do you dare
walk in.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts For The Lonesome
PoetryThis is part three of my "thoughts" series. Tale No One (Part 1) Thoughts Before Bed (Part 2) Thoughts for the lonesome (Part 3) No need to read them in order, just read what suits you best. Thanks for reading. Harry
