Roses once red,
Are now good and now dead,
Violets once blue,
No gone, left and rue,

My garden is empty,
No poor and unseen,
My garden once temptly,
Now worn and obscene,

Winters cold,
Did its damage,
Flowers once bold,
The chill did not manage,

My roses they bleed,
And my violets they’ve wept,
My garden by uncared,
And now by unkept,

My garden demolished,
By colds misdeed undone,
And unpolished.

Fruits will never bare,
Because of lack of care.
My flowers they’re gone,
Demised by weeds of wrong,

My garden it’s life,
Damaged by life’s strife,

My garden of Body,
My garden of mind,
My garden it bleeds of a past unkind,

My garden of soul,
My garden of me,
This garden is dead yet you cannot see,