The Stranger Garden (oldie but a goodie)

The Stranger Garden, home to someone new
Among the stones and leaves that turn to dust;
Cherry-lipped, a flower coloured rust.
The cold ripples, a mirror formed by dew,
The underwater shyness that copies you:
A bashful boy, a scholar shamed by lust,
A painful starve for nothing more than trust.
And this, a word across the daunting blue:
A shout kept down by miles of doubt and woes,
With empty hands, it floats around the bend
To winter town, where no one ever goes.
The lightest sound, it died to fight the wind.
An icy breeze: a kiss dressed as a whisper.
No-confidence men, they always miss her.

Thanks to Zach Farrow (Gypsy Lines) for some help on this one awhile back.

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