The voice sounded so sweet
Speaking only what was needed,
Seeming to know exactly what and why
Being abundantly there when needed.
The allure was strong
Pulling on the strings of my heart,
While beckoning lovingly,
Promising paradise itself,
Nothing short of ecstasy.
For years the enchanter tired not
One little nothing after another,
He gained ground slowly,
Until in the central midst of the drama
He stands,
Receiving every attention,
Enjoying the fruits of labour,
Then neglecting to tend the labour garden,
To nurture, manure and trim,
Allowing thistles and thorns to grow,
To choke the life out of the tender garden.
Tender garden strives for years
To maintain as an entity
A burden that was bourn together;
The neck stands overloaded,
Complaints given but to deaf ears
Hardened heart, callused mind
And the once tender and lovely garden,
The enchanted one,
Wooed and acquired
Now stands alone
In the midst of wolves
With no defence
Stands against a hoard of insects
And other predators.
Garden picture courtesy of slideshare.
