She serenely glides through the garden,
Taking in the perfume of this flower and that.
As she holds them so tenderly and lovingly,
Some draw a drop of blood, price for their scent.
Some smell sweetly of awe and wonder,
A few of longing and remembrance.
Some jar the senses wide awake with gusto,
While others lull the mind to sweet slumber.
The garden is green and lush, beautiful,
But it is bare and barren too, ugly.
Exquisitely crafted as if by a master hand,
But alas there is no gardener there.
She but spends a few moments there,
Reaching for the beauty but finding ugliness too.
With just one hope in her heart,
That the seed she planted sprouts serene.