The Garden Is Empty

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The garden is empty
Flowers plucked away
Petals meddle in the mire
Till they’re washed away
Each day, each death
Brings a new sad song to sing
Bringing an old, pathetic line to be played
Over the waves, the tidal wave
Of emotion is ridden till the heart is bare
And even then the anchor scrapes the bottom
Pleading with soul, something must be left there
But there isn’t
Just mud and heartache
Bones and heartbreak
Little petals mowed down and buried away
For us to politicize until the end of days

13 thoughts on “The Garden Is Empty

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