Perhaps it was nothing but a dream, though how real.
How real the gardens of childhood seemed
As they appeared to me, a sea of flowers:
Rubies and emeralds, with golden leaves.
And beyond the gates I saw you, ethereal arms outstretched,
As if to embrace me,
So full of life, it was difficult, though I remembered—
I remembered you were no longer that glittering garden.
Your leaves and petals were cold and black…
Vessels for forbidden memories.
This poem is very special to me. It's one of the earliest I ever wrote, and the first one I was really proud of. I was 16 or so at the time, still coping with the loss of my father two years prior.
Take a deep breath out there friends, and have a great day.