Secret garden

 
I turn to stone, like these statues that surround me
My longing, now monumental
with feet firmly planted to the ground
Desire that once burned within me
Now decorative.
Vines of roses shine so vibrantly
Encasing memories of hope, and youth
Beneath the morning sun
Beauty is the dew that dampens cold cheeks
Like tears that fall in mourning
When need so faithfully departs
I sink into the soil
cast away with best laid plans
Good intentions forsaking me, lingering
Against oblivion, behind the turned back
Of Fury's abaddon
Into this garden ,bearing offerings for dead lovers
Where the living wander beyond the gate
Oblivious to the secrets left buried here
Behind the shallow voices of screaming trees
Where my voice is too, drowned out
by the wind that whistles a comforting tune
Against oblivious earlobes of lonely girls
with stars in their eyes.