The Lost Garden

Once beyond the rusty gate, a dream in flora and light shone,

With pastoral hues and crimson reds, growing along the wall,

As stars they shined to there lost days, when the summers were long

And shade and light hides in the follies, its marble seats waiting for all,

Once around the floral beds, a path folded round in a gentle sigh,

With the young trees gathered, to the shade with neatly cut grass high,

As bird song abound the tops and crowns on winds to gentle fly,

Over the top of the russet bricks walls, hiding its beauty to all that pry,

Yet now these days of sun and dance, are lost to the winds of time,

And all that’s left by the pitted wall, is weeds and gray decline,

Tree still grow but ever tall, peering out over the clement climb

And rusty gate hang heavy now, falling out of the wall in rhythm,

Now they dwell lost to a time, of golden summers youth sublime,

Yet but a shadow to the wroth of life, as trees bares bones hang long,

As the walls now crumble and fall, brick by brick under weathered decline,

maybe one day it will be as all it was once,in the hope of the ravages of time,