Here lie the sweet, arrested buds
scorched by a sudden frost.
Withered now those unborn blooms,
sweet scent forever lost.
Reposing here, such shrunken bones
descendents will forget
lie undisturbed in silent tombs,
promise untested yet.
Here we find unyielding knots,
perpetual sand-swell dunes,
thorns that pierce the unaware,
scars thickened over wounds.
Should they reside in endless peace,
not see the light of day?
These dusty relics locked within;
the things we didn’t say.