©Brocken Inaglory
The past’s an uncertain place, she said
Seen through a rain-smeared pane
Where the garden is full of roses
And we are lovers again.
The past is a running river
That rushes to the sea
Carrying the fallen roses
And all you meant to me.
The past is a place full of dreaming
A castle built on a hill
And seen through ice-patterned glass, she said
The castle is standing there still.
In the past the sun shines always
Even on winter snow
The blackbird sings at midnight
In the garden where roses grow.
The past is best forgot, she said
With its heartaches and its woes
Like the old abandoned garden
Where only the wild rose grows.
Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 