In my secret garden I patiently wait,
watching leaves shiver in the evening breeze,
hoping to hear footsteps from beyond the gate.
Remembering how he made me feel at ease
when we first kissed on that Sunday afternoon
by the lake next to the weeping willow trees.
Sharing sweet wine 'til the rising of the moon,
we promised to meet again, but then he left
for shores unknown on midsummer’s eve in June.
His absence has left me stone cold and bereft.
In stealing my heart he has committed theft.
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| Writing Prompt |
A terza rima is a poem with eleven lines, an eleven syllable count and a rhyming scheme of aba bcb cdc dd. |
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