A Garden Bower A Garden Bower

A Garden Bower

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


The hours I spend watching 
seasons from my window
have increased of late.

Today, my sister, Felice, came
to my chamber, saying:

"Gregory, the gate needs oiling."

"Gregory, the roof is in disrepair."

Disrepair? I should think so,
yet I am loathe to leave this 
garden bower and the thrill

of its funerary dreams.


Submitted: February 19, 2025

© Copyright 2025 zorba3150. All rights reserved.

Poetry emptiness

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