No one really knows the face
behind the garden gates, but
she smiles when the sun holds
her gaze. Eyes of ancient wonder
sing notes of blue upon the garden.
And when the leaves of fall crown her
gold, she holds it like it’s the last
she’ll ever know. Colors die,
cold creeps in, fades her into stone.
The flowers and sun betray her light.
She becomes invisible again.
Talking to the Clouds 
Aw! This was a fine piece, but I feel bad for the subject of the poem. Feeling invisible is a rotten feeling to have.
Thanks for stopping by and commenting, and, yes, feeling invisible is terrible.
cyber hug.
Thanks, Mike, I needed that. Can I get another one?
Sarah, you can have all the hugs you want. I think you might be surprised by the combination of sincerity and intensity. There is little I wouldn’t do for you my talented, soulful, and truthful friend.
Reblogged this on My Blog snuppy.
Thank you!
You never cease to amaze me, Sarah.
Thank you, Sam. I am so glad to have you keep coming back 🙂
I would have it no other way, Sarah. And you’re welcome. 🙂
The feeling of being invisible is one I know well…though some may not see you…your beauty radiates still.
What a very sweet thing to say. Thank you very much.
“…eyes of ancient wonder sing notes of blue upon the garden…” Pure poetry, that! Nice…
Thank you, poet!
beautiful poetry from a beautiful mind
Thank you, John, your words mean more than you know.
Beautiful, I sometime feel this way, thank you for creating and sharing. Ann
Thank you, Ann. I appreciate your kind words.
🙂
I love this Sarah, it’s so intriguing and haunting. Wonderful photo and words.
Thank you very much for your support as always, dear friend.
Beautiful. A true gift of imagery and poetry. Blessings, Robyn
Thank you so much for your kind words.
Where is this garden?
beautiful poem…