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Aug 2013
In the mornings now
I walk through the garden of my tears
Harboring secret thoughts
Of your return
As I wipe dust off
The fragmented flowers
Residing there.

During those times
Oft sighted
The smallest wren sits
Atop a silvered rose
Warbling tunefully in my ear
Reminding me of songs left unsung.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2013
Audrey Howitt
Written by
Audrey Howitt
827
   ---, Weeping willow, --- and Lana
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