Memories of blossoming flowers live on,
while the petals of time wither and rot.
You took care to shower love and praises on the garden
causing it to grow and flourish.
Its beauty radiated and quivered as you laid there
intoxicated by the flowers’ sweet nectar.
As your admiration turned to passion,
the garden overflowed and became wild.
Everyday you dreamt of the garden,
holding it as yours in your mind.
A strange yet captivating flower then crept up,
choking up the beautiful flowers which once bloomed there.
Mesmerized, you watered the weed,
desiring for it to take over the garden.
So it grew,
as well did your desire.
Although the weed rapidly spread,
it never fully took hold.
Each new day the Sun looked down onto the garden,
frowning on what was taking place.
It burned in anger and despair,
the earth grew hot and your water dried up.
Yet you toiled on,
going mad with fervent heat.
Your sweat formed the dew on the grass and leaves,
as you worked to keep the weed alive.
A fire kindled within the garden,
its flames soon lighting the place on fire.
You tried to preserve the weed,
but all was lost.
As the garden went aflame,
you were forced to flee and take cover.
Then the Sun turned to you and said,
“I would not by my will have troubled you,
but since you make your pleasure of your pains
I will no further chide you.” *
The weed which you cherished suddenly enraptured you,
locking you in place.
So you watched the as the garden turned to crisp,
and wept at the beauty you had missed.
In time the garden renewed itself,
and the flowers returned more bountiful than ever before.
You struggled to escape the prison of the weed,
desiring to experience the wonder of the garden once more.
* William Shakespeare, “Twelfth Night,” lines 1-3 from act 3 scene 3
note: This poem is part of the July 2013 Writing Challenge. Writing prompt for this poem was to incorporate the first line of the third scene of any act of any of William Shakespeare's plays.
