my son Brandon

by John French
(highland, mi usa)

~~Garden of grief~~
Established by sorrow and fenced in by fate.
With a name clearly etched in the wide open gate.
Precisely positioned beneath realities glare.
Exists a sparse, thorny garden that's known as despair.
Memories cobble the clearly laid path.
Bordered by plans for the future that have been torn in half.
The marrows are damned despite intense tearful streams.
There's a well now in ruin, once overflowing with dreams.
An immense sense of longing looms over the knoll, and dark lamentations just grow of of control.
Haphazardly furrowed by times jagged blade.
Defining moments adorn markers that are clearly displayed.
Impatient's and dilemmas are quick to unfold,
blown away by a tempest that is brutally cold.
misery thrives because its roots are profound.
where hope does start budding its quickly cut down.
There are still hints of grandeur that stem from the past, amidst anguish and yearnings that are disturbingly vast.
There's a crooked stone caption that bares no relief.
Nothing prosperous blooms in a garden of grief.
http://j0hn-french.webs.com/