This garden is haunted, voices without faces
whisper long forgotten secrets through the trees
to rest awhile on cragged and broken walls
sheltered, then scurry through a make believe
life seeking redemption and solace.
No comfort in this crumbling facade
once warmed by summers sun now chilled by rains,
broken I lay, nothing but a memory from long ago.

Poetry Survivor
Poets Choice Trigger 22

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byUnderYourSpell© 0 comments/ 2382 views/ 2 favorites

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