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NO RETURN...
Dirge in the air, Spring was like a song;
Nothing, without you.
Some part of me gone with the soul...
It is all there in the mind,
A treasure-chest of memories -
Reminiscences of dear old times;
Golden and fresh with the freshness of life.
Shadows lengthen as they seek,
Somebody who shall no more speak.
What though the teardrop falls,
Or be held withal...
Sight grows dim, nothing matters now,
I try and try, somehow, somehow.
The years lie hidden inside the grave.
A life spent without a voice of utterance,
giving vent to its grievance.
A shadow came over the cloud, hovered awhile,
like someone wanted to talk, about flowers in another world...
while from the other world
the flower speaker spoke
be not a sad gardener
prune not the tree of life
but the sad wilting
branches that choke it
for they can do nothing else
pluck those age old weeds
from that forlorn flora
prepare the warm earthy bed
for the flowers that grow
sweet and wild
even in those years
you grew despondent and remiss
of your caretaker's duties
when but one favored rose
broke free of her beauty
and was replanted
in an eternal garden of glory
though the gardener lost his
will to till for the lesser beauties
he still had left
his small gallery of growers
survived his neglect
and from the moment he looked
beyond what little he felt he
had left in this world
a wild unexpected beauty
from a far away green house
of sorts
planted a few of her tender
soft petals
in his intoxicated eyes
so lovingly his caretaker's hands
protect her from all of life's
harsher elements
allowing another sun bathing beauty
to shamelessly sip at the warmth of
the sunshine
while the garden conscious caretaker
eternally shields her gentle beauty
he's been given
ever thus so
with the shade of his happy heart
and the support of his tender hands
and this was is just the beginning
of 'The Gardener's Tale'
you know who!...... so why type it?