I dreamt I walked in gardens green
where roses ornate gold
were once a blush, a maiden’s flush
Embalmed, their secrets hold
Their fragrance was metallic
no aromatic scent
Gone their perfumed essence
Their days of youth were spent
Encapsulated, hardened hearts
Their cries could not unfold
As they once felt the Midas touch
That trapped them in pure gold
1/2/19 JG