The Withered Garden

Tristan Robert Lange

I wish there was life
In this withered garden;
The flowers and hedges
No longer lay in bloom.

 

What fruit has fallen
Lies half eaten, dying,
Rotten are those succulent
Savory fruits once enjoyed.

 

Seedless and ever barren,
It is forever winter here.
The once sacred garden
Is now profane and exposed.

 

No more is it my sanctuary,
It lies useless and ruined.
Its warmth is now the frigid
Cold agony of a tomb.

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Comments4

  • Michael Edwards

    A pleasure to read - I hope you will be posting more.

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

    THANKS FRIEND ~ For a very elegant poem with a very wintry tale. I am sad that your poem is not just about a Winter dormant garden (with anticipation of resurrection in the Spring) but a WITHERED GARDEN that is well past its "sell by date". It is even sadder when such a Garden was once the playground of our verdant Youth. Thanks for sharing ~ more please. Please check my Poems ~ thanks BRIAN (UK)

    • Tristan Robert Lange

      Thank you for your feedback and for engaging with my poem. I will be posting more for sure and will certainly check out your poetry too.

    • Tony36

      Awesome write

    • Christina8

      Welcome to MPS! Excellent structure. Hope to read more tomorrow! Again, great job!--Christina



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