Walking Down The Garden Path
I stood before the arch. It stood before me so tall and wise. It was so welcoming. Just like a lover on a stormy day. I brush my hand across the roses, feeling the soft petals hit my rough skin. As I walk under the many arches, enjoying the beautiful green before me. I look before me and see a woman stood behind the fountain. The woman’s looks stops me in my tracks. My lover.
The one who was killed in this garden. The garden I’ve visited every day since the terrible day. I begin running towards her, the beautiful woman that stood before me wasn’t her though. “I was never really there” I feel as if I have fallen into a hole. I feel the sudden motion of falling. And then snap. I’m awake, in the hospital bed holding her hand.
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