𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 | Pᴏᴇᴛʀʏ

Garden of dead

I walk past the grey gate
With a creak it opens up,
On it was a broken slate
Carved with gardens fate.

Once blooming Field now left to rot
The smell of old leaves lit up,
Trunk of the woods worn out
Broken marble chair where I had sat,
Where you swore to stay by me.

Ahead now stood the dead dry patch of land
Where roses once grew and sprouted,
Where our girls smiles had vividly lived!
But now laid my pieces of soul,
Two tombs covered with autumns fall.

Here I cry,cry by night and eve,
When did those tiny giggles die,
Haven't you sworn and promised to me!
Why did I live and you had to leave.