Her Heart In His Garden

By Chaitanyaa Singh

Oh dad, I loved him, my pretty garden boy,

The one, who brought me roses,

 Chocolates and toys.

 He used to dry my tears, whenever sorrow would creep,

 But now he lies in eternal, undisturbed sleep.

 I'd wait for him, perched high on the rail, 

In the balcony, where the love would prevail.

 Each day my eyes would search the green,

 For the garden boy, my heart's serene. 

But now the balcony is empty and cold, 

The garden's speak untold. 

No footsteps come, no whispers shed,

Just the winds soft murmur and a love impaired.

The boy I loved, my heart's desire,

Fell victim to a father's raging fire.

A father's wrath, a cruel decree,

Took from her, from life, from me.

The garden's wilts, the flowers weep,

For the boy who now lies in a, restless sleep.

My gaze once bright, now dimmed with grief,

The garden's stillness, a heart's silent thief. 

No longer do the flowers bloom with, for the boy I loved,

Is no longer near.

The scent of roses fades in the air,

As memories linger, heavy and rare.

She whispers his name to the evening sky,

A lost love, but never to die. 

By Chaitanyaa Singh