(the gate's been left hitched open, with fraying string   ajar)*

"Although, I've left you clear directions to the travellers' garden path -
              yet, you've chosen a different route - to all you're searching for."    

I wait, at a journeys end of heady scents, tending ancient roses trees at it's breadth;

Sipping warming cups of rosemary blues, infused with sweet thymes' underneath.
                      
Perhaps, just an invitation to the garden was quite enough... to let fear decide your fate.

*Bared soles should move with deeper love... when pure destiny awaits.