When I go down that road
I get lost for a while
for the gardens grow back
barricading the isle,
so I’m forced to keep going
although my stomach churns
as the lighting gets dimmer
more and more with each turn.
It was such a quick memory,
but to this day it still haunts me
and the gardens make way
for a moment to taunt me.
Such beautiful flowers
like memories they adorn,
but they are painful to the touch
wrapped up tightly in thorns.
I wish that you’d stay away
in the library far from me,
but you’re a flame that won’t flicker
burning up my memories.
You take all of my dreams
and contort them so gladly,
so when I try to sleep
it is always done sadly,
and as I try to breathe
come the gardens re-growing.
Do you think oft of me?
I am left never knowing.
Alas, sometimes I will get lost
in those forsaken gardens that were,
and though I will never tend them again
I still ache for the gardens of her.
The Gardens of Her
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