words

the garden

                             

maybe if we had held one another just once more time…in the garden that grew on the outside of the inside of us. where sun and rain                                                                

merged into beautiful lonely days, where two worlds became an isle.

maybe if we did, just one more time, the bloom could of been for a while. 

in the garden, where fireflies would become candle lights, near the open window that gazed out into the night blossoming that

was once a part of you. a part of me.    where the night wind carried the essence of what use to be, glimmering of the silver threads of a spider’s web, catching  the glow of moonlight’s dew, that web that we got caught in. we were all that we could see. in that place that was once you and me. the only place that was true. unable to let go, but need it to be so. weeds are hiding the attraction of dreams that we once shared. keeping you and me from being we, hiding under the soil of time and lessons learned, are possibilities of what we use to see or thought we saw. watching the world sleep without the lullaby of you and iwatching night’s blanket slowly falling into the morning light. sometimes weeds get in the way of the garden.

sometimes we have to decide to hold beauty or let it go. the properties of love became harden the flames of passion now unable to ignite,haunted by the laughter of children playing in the park where we use to spend our days, now only reminds me of all the mistakes that were made, all the answers we could of said, but pretended we had nothing say. pretended the bloom of love would always stay.

the garden slips away into a world filled with yesterdays and the imagination that was once a part of  we. letting go of hands to wave good-bye. forgetting the seeds that were left behind. forgetting the memories of

you and i.

 somewhere between dawn and dusk, we lost one another in that oasis. drifting petals fell as we faded apart.

we had nothing to say, but so much we needed to know. holding on to one another so we can learn to let go. sometimes we need to. even though we may not want to let it go to be forgotten. sometimes we have to let the weeds grow…sometimes in the garden.

  © wild cherry tree publishing 2010  

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