Lady of the Garden

Sunken eyes
Darkened hollows
Of pocked poured concrete
Stare stoicly, sadly
With unblinking defiance
Knowing, she is
The prized possession
In her Master's garden

 

Nature's twilight 
Pepper's madly with fire
And life against the thick 
Somber air of silence
That permeates
Near the once smooth 
Sculpted cast
Of youth and innocence

 

Privileged guests
Sip and stroll
Methodically
Past her pedestal

Instictively
Casting a glance
Towards the stark
Solitary figure

 

And still
She listens
To their spontaneous
Simple observations

Hoping 
Yet knowing
They have no idea
She can hear
Their every word

Reviews

[Not Afraid of Bruises]

I loved it. While it's think in language th images the words create are worth taking the time to pick through. Excellent write.