The Scarlett Locket

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I no longer mourn all that could have been,

the graveyard has closed its gates.

I’ve left all the lilies

I needed to there.

I’m going back home

to a garden tended to with patience,

softly romantic in nature,

graced with emerald growth.

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How sweet is it,

that oxygen found its way

to my lungs,

past the heavy heart

to deliver the dose of life I needed?

In times of born-again peace,

it feels so safe to be seen,

and so intoxicatingly

in love with the moment.

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Take a bow.