Garden

• Isabella Chuan Ai Tan, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2021

There’s a garden in your hair,
Lined with peonies and roses.
A crown of quiet promises;
A smile your heart opposes.

There’s a gentle autumn wind
Coaxing the petals from your head.
They line against your pillowcase;
Crimson stains, and words unsaid.

Prescribed poison coats your lips,
Your body starved by weeds.
A withered hand to hide your pain;
From your cold heart, petals bleed.

The sting of winter; empty bottles;
The hair that litters your room.
A final winter, as I bid farewell
To a garden that never blooms.