Voices in the Garden
Voices in the garden make me weep,
Like all the memories I want to keep.
Are they from my future or past?
Why do the sounds fade away so fast?
Is it the wind playing tricks on me
Or heavenly bodies I cannot see?
The voices are as smooth as thick, velvet silk.
They almost make me forget my guilt.
Perhaps I am dreaming so this is not real.
But who placed the flower in my hand that I feel?