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Decay

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A savage garden
of thorns and broken bottles
Lies behind the fence.

Stalks of dead grass,
scattered as a drunkard’s thoughts,
shatter in the wind.

Vines reach for the sky
but stunted, they fall short and
limply hang down.

Rotting rose petals
are strewn across the path,
red as old blood.

Would that I had
the time or the patience
to transform this place.



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This article has 2 comments. Post your own!

TargonTheDragonThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
today at 11:25 am:
...i can see the meaning behind this. i love these verses, they are very potent. 
 
ROYCEPHUSThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
today at 7:58 pm :
Thanks, Targon :)
 
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