ephemera
  
 there is a garden I no longer water
 it is full of weeds and twisted vines
  
 shadows wander there at will
  
 one day, I shall refuse to return
 for looking at these hardened lumps 
 of clay is more distressing
 than envisioning the once abundant flow
 of delicate blooms
  
  
 StellaR
 March 5, 2007