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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2274120
Life is like a garden...

Flowers strewn along the wall,
in a darkness, born;
in the shadows, shudder, fall,
lonely, shaken... drawn

Coded in the fabric's loops,
hung on walls in rooms;
obscured motifs, hidden swoops,
spun on anxious looms

Over, under... inbetween,
the length of time, it stands;
memories roll by unseen,
enveloped in the strands

Wrapped up in a perfect shroud,
imperfect, flattened out;
lines defined, with colours loud,
muted in such doubt

Digits grace a surface, wove,
the ridges, peaks and grooves;
textures spent to serve us, roved,
blurring lies and truths

Spaces thought a golden hue,
places dwelled in shame;
the faces that we hold onto,
the echoes of a name

Remnants of a past gone by,
with treasures hidden, lost;
memories of times shone, fly,
with value in the cost

The value of the flora hid,
stitched and sewn in hems;
concealed trinkets, lowly bid,
won and lost on whims

Whims of fate on winds of chance,
a perfect storm is sewn;
in the tempest, sails dance,
a canvas cut and blown

A siren's song spun out for luck,
St Elmo's fires blaze;
with jewels folded in the ruck,
embroidered in the baize

Noting patterns, weaving through,
caught up in the nap;
sifting through the leavings strew,
a frayed and furrowed map

Threads pulled loose, as fabric falls,
a tappestry naïve;
with flowers strewn along the walls,
... hidden in the weave
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