The Path Left Waiting

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1000086706.jpg
(Effect by DeepArtEffects)

The gravel hums a hollow grey,
Beneath the weight of green and vine,
A corridor for feet that strayed
Across a different border line.
I trace the curve where shadows lean,
And search for what is no longer seen.

 The bamboo whispers to the gate,
 In syllables of rustling sighs,
 Of how it feels to stand and wait
 Beneath the reach of summer skies.
 The garden grows, indifferent, deep,
 While secrets in the hedges sleep.

I remember how the light would fall,
In dappled coins upon your hand,
Before the silence built this wall
Across the contours of the land.
Now every leaf and tangled bough
Is asking where you wander now.

 The path leads on to somewhere still,
 Around the bend, beyond the sight,
 To gardens past the rising hill
 That disappear in coming night.
 I stay behind where mosses grow,
 Too rooted here to let you go.

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