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Life is like a garden... |
Wallflowers Flowers strewn along the wall, in a darkness, born; in the shadows, shudder, fall, lonely, shaken... drawn Coded in the fabric's loops, hung on walls in rooms; obscured motifs, hidden swoops, spun on anxious looms Over, under... inbetween, the length of time, it stands; memories roll by unseen, enveloped in the strands Wrapped up in a perfect shroud, imperfect, flattened out; lines defined, with colours loud, muted in such doubt Digits grace a surface, wove, the ridges, peaks and grooves; textures spent to serve us, roved, blurring lies and truths Spaces thought a golden hue, places dwelled in shame; the faces that we hold onto, the echoes of a name Remnants of a past gone by, with treasures hidden, lost; memories of times shone, fly, with value in the cost The value of the flora hid, stitched and sewn in hems; concealed trinkets, lowly bid, won and lost on whims Whims of fate on winds of chance, a perfect storm is sewn; in the tempest, sails dance, a canvas cut and blown A siren's song spun out for luck, St Elmo's fires blaze; with jewels folded in the ruck, embroidered in the baize Noting patterns, weaving through, caught up in the nap; sifting through the leavings strew, a frayed and furrowed map Threads pulled loose, as fabric falls, a tappestry naïve; with flowers strewn along the walls, ... hidden in the weave |