Overgrown

Words used: queen mould cook grant stand stir fire black free cord

Overgrown

Once she had been a garden queen,
Her flowers bright, her hedges green.
Now she can’t even come outside,
And few know why she chose to hide.

Her garden bench is thick with mould,
Her outdoor cooking stove stands cold.
She prays God grant her youth again
To stand beneath the trees. In pain

She thinks of stirring that old fire
And watching all the sparks dance higher
Than the porch where she could see
A cord of wood she’d got for free.

It all seemed black as winter came.
How life had changed and who could blame
The children who lived far away
And promised they’d come by one day.

The world had grown too busy now.
She’d love to change but can’t see how.
Soon all the joy in life she’d known
Became a garden, overgrown.

© 2011 Pam H. Murray