It was once a green promise, a verdant lace,
now a creeping shadow on the old, weathered face.
Each leaf is a scale on the cold, gripping hold,
unwinding a history too grim to be told.
now a creeping shadow on the old, weathered face.
Each leaf is a scale on the cold, gripping hold,
unwinding a history too grim to be told.
The wall cracks and groans, surrendering slow,
as the python-vine tightens, a final deathblow.
It consumes the whole story, the past that is written,
by a lover’s green promise that has turned and has bitten.
as the python-vine tightens, a final deathblow.
It consumes the whole story, the past that is written,
by a lover’s green promise that has turned and has bitten.
The garden now silent, a ghost in the shade,
mourns a beautiful lie, a green, dark charade.
The heart of the wall is hollow and cold,
a victim of love turned to a story untold.
mourns a beautiful lie, a green, dark charade.
The heart of the wall is hollow and cold,
a victim of love turned to a story untold.
