Garden Of Regret

In the garden of regret beneath the cypress tree,

stood the crooked image of the likeness of me.

My limbs were as to the cypress,

which held fast to the boggy ground.

Sunlight filtered across my rough and hewn face,

whilst visions of your exquisite beauty did abound.

The thought of you brought to hope of this of wooden heart.

And I in cold solitude rue the day that through force we did part.

For I long of you from within this quagmire of forgotten time,

and I remember… oh how I remember when…

 that just you and I walked free on the seashores of our mind.

Come now Leah,

 and comfort me,

 take me back now

to our gentler time.

J. Allen Wilson © four 2006