The Forsaken Garden by Elizabeth Henry

illustration: Delphine Jones

Reflecting on my distant past,

I lie and stare through leaded glass.

I see a vista – frowsy, worn,

And all at once I’m lost and lorn.

 

I think of how the ground once looked,

Its lawns and hedges preened and plucked.

I dream of trysts with handsome lords

Bedecked in doublets, hose and swords.

 

Awoken from my poignant thoughts,

I rise, befuddled, out of sorts.

I grasp the door and catch my breath.

I seek a gown and start to dress.

 

Through cobwebs spiders, dirt and grime,

I leave the house and slowly climb

The mossy steps t’ward broken walls

And old forgotten waterfalls.

 

I stagger tiredly through the grass

Aside decaying, crumbling paths.

I picture still, their faded grace

And feel a tear upon my face.

 

I step beneath a grove of trees,

Where fusty smells imbue the breeze.

I spy a craft that’s run aground

Beside a lake of filthy brown.

 

I chance upon my favourite seat,

But as I sit it starts to creak.

It’s overrun with weeds and vines

That strangle, stifle and entwine.

 

I move away with feeble tread,

Until I reach a dingy shed.

Alone and grave, I take a chair a

And wish my life would finish there.